


Coco Contagion

by xSpeechlessx



Category: GildedGuy, Slush Invaders (Video Game)
Genre: A first attempt at writing for these guys, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Attempts at Writing Horror, Gen, I hope I did SOME justice, I love...ellipses...so much, Minor Injuries, Not sure why I'm explaining all this nobody's going to find it aksdfh;kd, Posting this on Speech's account to keep the stories together, Takes place in the universe she set up, Title was originally a working title and now it's...not, ish, minor blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSpeechlessx/pseuds/xSpeechlessx
Summary: The weeks following the...events...in Aegis were fine. Not all of them were sleeping well, and Mic hardly left his room, but he just needed time.They'd all be fine after some time. There was nothing else that could hurt them after all. Nothing they couldn't handle.Andrew had thought so anyway until another one of Mic's enemies paid them a visit.*Written by Speeh's sister, set in the same universe as her stories, but definitely separate from them. We wanted to keep them together as these stories are really for each other.*
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please take this thing so I'll stop picking at it already.
> 
> Removed the St/Stick portions of their names because it's...a little goofy sounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Did a big 'ol edit to a section of this story that was WAY too similar to Fidus. Everything else was left unchanged.

Andrew sighs as he exits the shop, his haul of groceries gripped firmly in hand, as he allows the door to swing shut behind him and the calls of farewell from the workers to fade.

This was the third visit to the store this week alone, and he was beginning to become recognizable to the shopkeepers and cashiers. While he didn’t particularly mind grabbing some extra food for the guys, it was certainly exhausting having to go out every other day because they couldn’t control themselves.

Besides, they were adults, they were perfectly capable of taking care of their own grocery shopping, thank you very much.

And yet, here he was buying snacks for Pedro, Kyle, and Tucker.

Andrew shakes his head and starts to head back, allowing his memory to guide him home as he becomes lost in thought.

It had been a little over a month since Michael had come to stay with them at the tower in order to recover from his experience at Aegis. While physically he was healing well, and every day seemed a little less shaky and pained, mentally the entire ordeal had taken its toll on him.

It was becoming increasingly obvious he wasn’t sleeping nearly as well as he let on at the morning meetings, if the deep, bruise like bags lining his eyes were any indication.

To be fair, none of the original group who’d entered the forest seemed to be taking the experience very well. For the month they’d been back, they’d each had their own share of nightmares and bouts of insomnia. More nights than not Andrew would find Thomas and Tucker playing games, movies, or binging shows late into the night.

Kyle, on the other hand, could be found in the training room, pushing his ability further until his hands became a painful red, or in his room where he almost obsessively researched the entity that attacked them, to no avail.

The fact that Andrew himself was there to witness these acts spoke of his own trouble sleeping through the night, and he often found himself joining Kyle for a spar or catching a movie with Thomas and Tucker until they either retired from exhaustion or the early morning rays would peek through the windows indicating a new day.

Andrew felt the grimace on his face drop into a frown, however, as his thoughts returned to Michael. The figure seemed constantly on edge these days, as if he were waiting for an attack that would never come, not in the safety of the tower anyway where he was surrounded by friends.

On particularly bad nights for the gray figure, where the light would stay on for days in a row, Andrew would join him in his room as he doodled away in his sketchbook until he was able to convince him to at least try and sleep, which had mixed results.

All in all, Michael remained holed up in his room most days, joining the group for their meetings, but rarely adding anything to their plans.

Even more odd, he seemed to try and avoid himself, Thomas, Tucker, and Kyle more than anybody, and on more than once occasion he’d catch the gray figure tracing their scars from the fight in Aegis, a disturbed glint shining in his eyes.

Andrew fingers the pale scar that lines him from shoulder to hip absentmindedly, barely noticeable today, but still served as a painful reminder for what it took to get him back once.

Even way out here, hundreds of miles from Aegis, that things influence seemed to reach Michael, and no amount of persuading or promises that that thing would _never_ touch him again, not if they had anything to say about it, seemed to convince him that he was perfectly safe with them.

He just seemed….lost right now.

 _He just needs time,_ Andrew thinks to himself as the tower finally rises over the ridge, _He’ll be fine, they all would, eventually, they_ just _needed some time._

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

* * *

Thomas rummages through the suitcase before him, still unpacked to this day, regardless of how long it’d been since Michael had come to live with them.

He groans as he pulls yet another dull pencil from the depths of the travel bag and tosses it over his shoulder with the ever-growing pile of writing utensils, old crayons and sketchbooks that were filled with various doodles and artwork.

“He’s going to kill you when he finds out you went through his things. “a voice interjects from behind him. Thomas turns to watch as Hang neatly places the discarded pencil in the pile before turning back to his roommate with an unimpressed look.

“He’s an _artist,_ ” Thomas says incredulously, ignoring the warning, “He has to have packed _some_ paint _._ ”

“Maybe not, T.” Hang says, “Don’t forget his pen, that thing can probably color too.”

“Whatever happened to good old-fashioned paint? He relies on that thing way to much if you ask me.” Thomas grumps then straightens in interest, “Maybe he’d let me borrow it…” he wonders offhandedly.

“After what you did to his room, I’d be surprised if he let you borrow a pencil sharpener.” Hang chuckles, “C’mon dude, lets clean up in here and we’ll go to the store.”

Thomas sighs in defeat and begins to help with the fallout of his search. He carefully places the sketchbooks back neatly in the bag and begins to zip it closed when he feels a hard lump in one of the side pockets he’d neglected to search.

“Wait!” Thomas yells excitedly, beside him Hang raises an eyebrow as the blue figure deftly unzips the pocket and reaches in. He freezes when instead of finding smooth glass or a tube of paint, his had comes in contact with a hard and rough object. Pulling it free, he examines it closely, confusion clouding his face as Hang leans in for a closer look.

“Is that a… coconut?” the red figure asks incredulously.

Thomas shakes his head in disbelief, “Yeah? Why does he-? I mean, why would he-?” he stammers.

Thomas abruptly jumps as the fruit jerks in his hands, and he fumbles with it briefly as he attempts to keep it from dropping, which ultimately fails, and it falls with a dull thud against the hardwood.

“Really dude?” Hang reprimands.

“What? It moved, Hang! I felt it!”

Hang rolls his eyes, “Quit playing around, we have to get out of here before Mic comes back and tears us a new one.”

Thomas relents and nods apprehensively, he stoops down to cautiously reach for the fallen fruit. He hardly manages to brush its hard surface before it suddenly jumps and animates again. The two figures watch bewildered as the fruit quickly rolls away and slams into the door where it rests innocently.

Thomas gestures accusingly as Hang watches the thing in clear confusion. “Okay…that’s unusual.”

“You think?!”

Thomas and Hang share a unsure look, as the former walks forward to hesitantly pluck the coconut from the floor.

“So, this thing’s cursed, huh?” Thomas asks Hang as the coconut gives another almighty jump in his hands. He keeps a firm grip on it as it seemingly struggles in his grasp.

“Looks like it.” Hang confirms as he leans forward over Thomas’ shoulder to inspect the object closer.

 _Strange_ , he thinks to himself, _it almost looks like a face._ He shivers in discomfort at the empty sockets and squeezes Thomas’ shoulder to get his attention, “Just leave it dude, it’s probably some weird magic thing Mic brought from Aegis. We can ask him about it later.”

Thomas hesitates for a moment before nodding in affirmation as the coconut gives another jerk in his grasp. He drops the fruit back in the pocket he’d found it and together they turn without a backwards glance.

Hang hardly has time to open the door before the fruit manages to wiggle its way out of the bag they’d found it and fall to the floor again. Thomas and Hang jump at the noise and whip around to face the thing again.

“Okay, I’m getting sick of this thing.” Thomas stomps back over to the fallen fruit and bends down to pluck it from the floor. Or at least he tries to.

As soon as the black figure bends down the fruit somehow manages to launch itself from its stationary position to slam into his face painfully.

Thomas falls back with a cry and Hang abandons the door to help his roommate, igniting his flames angrily. The thing merely ignores him and avoids the pair and rolls quickly out the door.

The two figures are dumbfounded as the coconut makes it to the stairs and they hear a rhythmic banging as it launches itself down them.

They share one last panicked look before yelling, “Catch it!” Thomas scrambling up, ignoring his smarting nose, and Hang dousing his flames to give chase.

* * *

Andrew sucks in a frustrated breath through his teeth as he swipes his card through the reader for the third time, and it met with the same rejecting _beep._

He shifts the progressively heavier groceries over to his free hand and pounds on the door.

“Guys! So help me when I found out who put the tower on lockdown while I was gone is going to be on toilet duty for a _month!_ Do you hear me?!”

He huffs through his nose as his yelling only attracts odd looks from their neighbors, and the door remains steadfastly locked and closed. He shakes his head as he places the bags down and pinches the bridge of his nose. He was _really_ going to have to have Waqas place some restrictions on the lockdown sequence.

For now, he would have to find a new way into the building that would result in minimal injuries. He slides his phone out of his pocket and dials James first, but has his hopes quickly dashed as he’s consistently sent straight to voicemail. The remainder of the team yields the same results and he puts the phone away in frustration.

26 people living here, and _none_ of them could pick up the phone? As frustrating as this was beginning to become, Andrew felt a prickle of doubt in the back of his mind. It was very, _very_ odd for him to struggle to get in contact with a number of his team, particularly James who always kept his phone on for emergencies.

With worry beginning to twist his gut, he abandons the groceries by the door and heads around to the back entrance. After testing that the door was, too, locked tight, he finally decides on the best course of action.

Looking both ways up and down the alleyway, Andrew shifts into a handstand and efficiently slams the soles of his feet powerfully into the reinforced glass of one of the windows. He grunts as the glass merely groans at the impact, but the tiniest fracture appears on its pristine surface. Confident that he wasn’t just bruising his feet, he slams into it again and again until, finally, the glass shatters under the force.

Rolling away from the falling shards, Andrew gets to his feet and studies the gaping hole he’d made in the window. The landlady may get them for damages later, but that was the least of his concerns, for now he needed to know why exactly his home was on emergency lockdown, and more importantly, _where was his friends?_

Quickly and carefully, Andrew scales the building and squeezes past the jagged edges of glass before slipping gracefully into the hallway. Around him, it was utterly silent, which only heightened his feeling of unease. In a building with this many people living in it, especially a bunch of young, rowdy men, there was never a quiet moment.

He jumps, as suddenly the lights around him burn out all at once and plunge the hallway into darkness. Cautiously, he pulls his phone out again and switches on the flashlight, ignoring the stairs to his right, he begins to creep quickly down the hallway.

_Okay guys, where are you?_

* * *

Thomas and Hang burst down the stairs following the strange, possibly cursed, fruit as it launches down flight after flight of stairs. Thomas quickly jumps the railing in an attempt to cut it off, but it avoids his grasping hands nearly intelligently and slips under his legs.

“That thing is smart!” he says to Hang as the red figure catches up.

“It’s a _coconut_ , it shouldn’t be _smart_!” he shoots back as he and Thomas fall into a sprint to catch the errant fruit.

“Tell that to that thing!”

The two figures abruptly fall over each other as the coconut suddenly changes course and exits the stairwell. It rolls rapidly down the hall, past the rooms and heading straight for the room at the end. Hang studies its momentum, and mentally goes over each room on the floor.

“It’s heading to the training room?” Hang concludes as they quickly detangle themselves, “What’s it after anyway? There’s nobody down here right now except Tucker and…”

Alarm shoots the two simultaneously as they remember just who had planned to spar today. The figures shoot off again just as the fruit slips through the double doors leading into the spacious room.

“Michael!”

Thomas reaches the room first and bursts through the doors right after the fruit quickly scanning the room. Michael and Tucker jump as the doors slam into the wall, stumbling away from each other in alarm.

“Thomas?” Tucker calls in confusion, “Why-?” he cuts off suddenly as he spots the fruit rolling past him. “Is that a coconut?”

Michael stiffens in alarm at the question as his eyes lock on the hard ball rolling rapidly towards him, he backtracks away from it and trips over his fallen weapon in his haste. A range of emotions cross his face rapidly, almost too fast to catch. First confusion, then shock, a hint of fear, and finally annoyance, strangely enough.

“Not again-!” he groans as the coconut suddenly leaps into the air, soaring high above his form, only to slam directly onto the gray figures head. The impact tips him back and he falls to the floor where he lay unmoving.

The three remaining figures gape as Michael falls limply to the floor and rush to his side. Tucker, being the closest, gets there first and falls to his knees beside their prone friend.

The white figures hands hover over him hesitantly, as if he were unsure how exactly to proceed. It’s only when Thomas and Hang slide in beside him does he reach forward to try and pry the cause of Michael’s sudden fit from his skull.

Tucker’s fingertips hardly brush against the rough surface of the coconut before Michael jerks under his touch and suddenly grips at his wrist firmly. Tucker stiffens in surprise but doesn’t pull away as the figure leverages himself to sit up.

“Mic?” Thomas questions as the figure remains disturbingly quiet, studying Tucker’s face as he grips at his arm more firmly. “You okay dude?”

Michael remains quiet, seemingly ignoring Thomas’ question, before releasing his hold on Tucker. He leans forward and grasps at the blue figure beside him, squeezing his shoulder tightly and freezes, as if he was waiting for something.

Thomas and Tucker glance at each other before refocusing on their friend.

“Michael,” Tucker begins, “You’re acting strange. Are you feeling okay?”

The gray figure merely releases his grasp on Thomas, an almost perplexed aura coming off him as he finally reaches for Hang. The red figure furrows his brow as Michael leans forward, placing his open palm against Hang’s chest.

The change is almost instantaneous. The moment he makes contact, Hang stiffens at the touch and his eyes widen unnaturally large before rolling in the back of his head.

Thomas and Tucker gape, frozen in alarm, as a strip of black wraps neatly around his neck, and he convulses before blinking rapidly and refocusing on the pair as they scoot away from them. Alarmingly, like a wave, bright glowing crimson obscures the normally warm orange irises and the shaking ceases as he becomes unnaturally still.

Michael gives off an almost pleased aura as he releases the red figure, seemingly forgetting about the remaining two in the room.

“Hey!” Tucker whips his head around in alarm as Thomas yells, “This isn’t funny guys! Knock it off!”

Michael slowly looks at the pair, the empty eye sockets causing a shiver to crawl up Tucker’s spine as he observed them. Slowly, the gray figure stands and points a bandaged finger at them. Without hesitation, Hang sprints at the pair, fire licking up his arms already as he prepares for an attack.

Quick as a viper he engages with Tucker, slamming a fist hard into his stomach, aiming almost calculatingly for the still sore area. Tucker gasps as his ribs, healed but still tender from the fight with Bog, shoot shocking pain through his torso. He takes a step away to get some space between them, but Hang keeps on his onslaught, raising his arms above him as his flames expand into an inferno to slam onto the white figure.

Tucker quickly summons his daggers and, carefully keeping their dull edge up, just manages to catch the appendages as they come down to pound into where his face had been. The flames lick eagerly at the blades, causing their orange color to glow brightly. 

“What the hell?!” Thomas exclaims as he watches the struggle in shock.

Sweat drips off Tucker’s face, from pain or the overwhelming heat he wasn’t exactly sure, as he struggles under the weight of their friend. Unexpectedly, Hang knees upwards directly into his ribs again. Tucker sees the world disappear as his vision goes dark as pain blinds him momentarily, enough time for his opponent to kick his feet from under him and send him sprawling on his back. He groans in pain from his spot on the floor as his chest throbs in rhythm with his heart, clutching the area in pain.

Tucker blinks the spots from his eyes as Hang leverages a hand against him, preparing to blast him to cinders. He raises his arm for protection, a pitiful barrier against the fire users impressive flame.

Just as Tucker makes peace with his situation, Hang…hesitates, as if he were warring with himself. The fire users face twitches and twists, his arm rocking back and forth away from the prone figure before him. Tucker cautiously lowers his arm as the moment drags on.

“Hang?” he asks cautiously.

The figure shakes and clutches his head with his free hand. Tucker feels a flicker of hope as Hang seems to fight whatever control he was under, lowering his arm the tiniest bit. It almost seemed as if he would beat whatever was snaring his mind, had Michael not chosen that moment to raise a hand and _snap_. The change was near instantaneous as any hesitancy Hang displayed dried up, and he steadies the hand against him again. Tucker’s eyes widen as a flicker of flame appears on the open palm.

Seconds later, Thomas appears behind the red figure and hooks his arms under his shoulders, throwing his aim the second he lets loose a terribly impressive torrent of flame, singeing the stone floor just beside Tucker’s prone form.

“Hang!” Thomas calls as his roommate struggles under his hold, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to _chill!”_

Hang responds by leaning forward and slamming his head directly into Thomas’ face, splitting his lip and forcing his grip to slacken. With his arms free, Hang whips around and grips the cape tied around Thomas’ neck before bodily throwing him around where he lands clumsily on Tucker.

“We need to rethink our options here Tuck.” Thomas groans as they quickly detangle themselves and scoot away as Hang advances on them once again. A safe distance away, Michael observes the exchange with a curious tilt to his head.

“Tucker?” Thomas insists as Hang suddenly rushes forward and aims a flaming fist at his roommates head. He rolls away, hissing as the burning heat brushes past him. Deftly, he kicks the fire user away and back off, unwilling to fight.

Tucker nods in agreement, still cringing at the throbbing in his chest, “I have another idea. When I say run, book it to the doors as fast as you can.”

Thomas eyes him quizzically, but nods anyway, “Just say when. I would hurry though.” He recommends as their back finally hit the wall at the edge of the room.

Tucker refocuses on their friend as he approaches them, searching for even a hint of recognition and finding none under the chilling red. Steeling himself, Tucker surges forward, obviously catching the figure off guard as he slams into him throwing him off his feet and heaving him into the ground.

Tucker winces as the figures head strikes the floor with dull _thunk_ , but hardly pauses before shouting, “Now!” to Thomas and taking off. Tucker risks a glance back and feels minutely relieved as Hang sits up after a dazed moment and shakes the stars away already surging to his feet to give chase.

He turns away, and instead focuses on Michael who hadn’t moved from his motionless position the entire time, now stepped forward and levels a finger at them once again. As they rush past him, the figure doesn’t even attempt to stop them, and instead gives a bone chilling _screech_ that sends chills coiling uncomfortably up their spines.

“Oh my God?” Thomas says, horrified just as they reach the doors and burst through them.

“Barricade it! Don’t let them through!” Tucker commands as the doors close behind them.

Without hesitation, Thomas throws himself against the door, holding it closed as Hang struggles against the combined weight of both figures.

“No offense Tuck,” Thomas gripes as the door heaves under them, “but _that_ was your grand plan? Just knock him over and hope for the best?”

“It was all I could think of at the moment.” He snipes back as the screeching behind him reaches an unnatural pitch that shivers in his bones. Tucker looks up and down the hall, searching for something to keep the doors closed under the incessant onslaught on the other side. Upon finding nothing he glances to Thomas and his eyes lock on the long cape draped over his shoulders.

“Thomas, I have one last favor to ask from you.”

Thomas looks between him and the cloth and sighs.

The two figures step back to admire their work, satisfied that the cape, wrapped tightly around the handles of the doors, would hold for the short time it would take for them to formulate a plan.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Thomas asks as he rubs his bare neck absentmindedly. “We can’t fight them…”

Tucker fiddles with his bandana as he furrows his eyebrows in thought. The certainly could fight them, especially with Michael seemingly not willing to join in the fight. The two of them were more than a match for Hang, explosive fire power or no, two on one was a no-brainer.

No, the problem was their hesitancy to _hurt_ would be their death, just as it nearly had been for Andrew and Kyle in Aegis. They could not willingly hurt their friend, a mercy he could not grant them at the moment.

“I think,” he answers, “We need to call James.”

* * *

Their second arrives quickly hearing the concerning turn of events, very reminiscent of the encounter in Aegis. Unwilling to have a repeat of past events, he brings the remaining defenders with him.

The large group gathers outside the room, apprehension heavy in the air as James pushes through the throng to approach the pair.

“What, exactly, happened here?” he asks as he comes to a stop in front of the pair arms crossed over his chest as he eyes them.

“I’m not really sure, to be completely honest.” Tucker responds first, leveling his gaze with James. “Michael and I were training when Thomas and Hang nearly knocked the door off its hinges. Everything after that is kind of a blur, but Mic and Hang are compromised. I’m not sure from what but…” He stops and glances at Thomas who smiles nervously.

James nods at Tucker’s story and focuses on Thomas instead with a raised eyebrow, who nervously meets his steady gaze.

Thomas seems to consider his words carefully before finally responding, “Me n’ Hang found a cursed coconut in Mic’s room while we were looking for paint, and it started moving by itself, and it got out of his room, and we chased it down here because we weren’t sure if it was dangerous,” he says the word hesitantly before shaking his head and continuing, “and I kinda think it may have… possessed him?” The words fall out of his mouth in a rush all at once, hard to process, and even harder to believe. James’ raised brow drops and furrow together as the team murmurs behind him.

“A…coconut?” he asks, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Thomas, this is not the time to be playing around-“

“I’m not kidding!”

James snaps his eyes open and prepares to retort, but upon seeing the despairing look in the figure’s eyes, he closes it again. He heaves in a breath and lets it out with a sigh, easing the frustration bubbling in his gut.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

They shake their heads at the question, “Just a little tender, Hang hits a little hard, but I don’t think he was trying to hurt us, or he was fighting not to.” Tucker answers.

James considers this information and nods, “Good.”

He pushes past the two and examines the cloth wrapped tightly around the handles of the door leading to the training room. He turns back to the team to address their next course of action, “Now, we need to deal with these two quickly and efficiently. Keep in mind that these are our friends, so be gentle.” He commands before turning back, aiming to unlock the door. He’s halted as he feels a hand pull at his wrist.

“They’re not themselves,” Thomas reminds him, “Whatever they do, they don’t mean it, but they’re still gonna come at us with everything they’ve got.”

James tilts his head and gently extracts his wrist from the grip, “Understood.”

Tucker pipes up from where he’d been quietly observing the exchange, “And James?” He waits until he has his full attention to continue, “You can’t let Mic touch you.”

James raises a brow and shakes his head, “How are we supposed to fight him without touching him?”

Tucker merely shrugs, “We’ll have to get creative; Michael did something to Hang, neither of them are acting like themselves, but Hang was the one who attacked us.”

James shakes his head for what feels like the hundredth time before calling to the team, “You heard them guys: don’t touch Michael, don’t let _him_ touch _you_!”

He expected complaints, or questions, but is instead met with determined and steady looks. He smiles proudly before finally turning to unravel the tightly wound cloth.

“Then let’s get them back!”

* * *

Andrew slinks down the hall silently, thankful for the carpet softening his footfalls, as he carefully avoids the spots on the floor he knew would creak under his weight.

Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but for now, while he was in the dark, both literally and figuratively, about what was going on, he wanted to be very careful on how he approached this situation. For all he knew, he was the only one still in commission while the rest of his team was injured or worse elsewhere.

The thought pulls his mouth into a hard line, and he quickens his pace. They were more than capable of taking care of themselves individually, together they were nearly unbeatable, so where were they? Why was the building on lockdown?

 _This had better not be some elaborate prank, guys._ He thinks grouchily.

Deep down, though, he kind of hoped it was just some stupid prank pulled by the team. A prank he could deal with, but an invasion? By himself? Not so much.

Andrew shines his flashlight around the hall, peeking into the kitchen as he passes it and moves on when he finds nothing out of the ordinary. Reaching the end of the hall, however, he stops to inspect the door leading to the training room.

The normally smooth surface was warped, as if it had been forcefully brutalized from the other side. More strangely, the handles of the door appeared to have been melted. The metal having dripped down the length of the door into a stain on the floor.

Andrew brushed the rough rivulets and found them warm to the touch, as if this had been a recent occurrence. All at once, he felt a chill wrack up his spine, as a feeling of being watched overwhelmed his senses and he whipped around to face…an empty hallway.

He scanned the dark edges of the hall apprehensively as his mind morphed the shadows into shapes and figures. Finding nothing still, he sucked in a breath to calm his racing heart and forced himself to turn back to the door. Making his mind up, Andrew grasped what remained of the handles with difficulty and pulled, the door creaked open and sound of the abused and whining hinges bounced around his skull and probably gave his position away to anyone from here all the way to the third floor.

Giving himself just enough room to slip through the crack Andrew entered the room, immediately shining his flashlight around the dark space. At first, he found nothing, his gaze roaming over the dark space fruitlessly.

He sucked on his teeth and prepared to leave when he heard it: the barely audible, shallow sound of breathing farther into the room.

Andrew freezes and opens his mouth to call out, but thinks better of it and snaps it shut. He’d already given his position away with his flashlight, there was no reason to give away his identity too.

 _Why are they staying hidden?_ he wonders to himself. They could have easily gotten the drop on him, so why hadn’t they?

Deftly turning his flashlight off, Andrew inches further into the room. Closing his eyes, he allows his hearing and familiarity with the room to guide him closer and closer to the soft sound of breathing, just barely audible even in the dead silent room. Andrew steps carefully, distributing his weight evenly to soften his footfalls even further.

When he feels himself get close, he eases his eyes open and spots a hunched figure maybe 10 feet in front of him. They sit unnaturally still in the gloom, breathing shallowly. Andrew thanks whatever force was looking out for him that his presence somehow went unnoticed when he entered the room.

 _Even with the door creaking?_ A voice in the back of his mind supplies.

Andrew hesitates, his position had surely been noted since he walked into the room, so why…?

He suddenly gets the overwhelming urge to leave this room, an insistent voice urging him to _get away,_ similar to when he had been in the hall. He nearly acts on it, before the figure before him suddenly lurches to their feet, startling Andrew, the thoughts buzzing a warning in his head.

Andrew shakes the noise away in irritation and holds his breath, squinting vainly to make out any identifying features from behind. His closer inspection pays off when he notices the familiar purple hue of his second.

Andrew blows his held breath out, feeling the tension bleed out of him. Throwing caution to the wind he finally breaks the suffocating silence.

“James!” Andrew approaches his second, placing a hand on his shoulder as he steps next to him. “What’s going on here? Why’s the building on lockdown? Why are you sitting in the dark? Is everyone alright?”

Andrew furrows his brows together in confusion as James doesn’t even react to his grilling. The figure seems to stiffen and straightens fully at his touch, and he turns to face his leader fully. Andrew feels his lingering relief dry up and a freezing horror take its place as he’s finally able to get a good look at his seconds face.

James’ normally easy-going expression is completely neutral as he turns to regard the figure who got his attention. His wide eyes, a brilliant violet normally, are a piercing, angry red that spreads past the iris to cover the white sclera that seems to glow in the ill-lit room.

Andrew hesitates as his chugging mind tries and fails to reconcile this creature with his second, his indecision lasts a second too long as he attempts to step back and gain some room from whatever this was James’ hand shoots out and clamps onto his wrist firmly.

He regards Andrew calmly even as the blue figure attempts to wrestle his wrist back from the unforgiving grip, and closely inspects his face. Seconds pass uneventfully, and seemingly not finding what he was looking for the terrible eyes narrow aggressively.

Andrew watches his world turn upside down as he’s suddenly airborne, and slams into the hard, unforgiving floor. He let’s out a strangled gasp as the air is forcefully ripped from his lungs at the impact.

His wrist is twisted painfully in James’ grasp as the figure raises a foot to slam it down on his throat, cutting off his already meager air supply. He writhes under the appendage, feeling his world dim even further as his oxygen deprived brain already begins to lose its battle with consciousness.

Desperately, Andrew knees at the leg not currently trampling his throat, throwing off James’ balance and forcing him to kneel. Quickly, Andrew knocks the foot grinding into him away and slips out from under the purple figure, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Andrew gasps, desperately drawing in breath after breath as James stands, furiously regarding him. Rubbing his raw throat, Andrew straightens from his hunched position and waits for his second to make his next move.

“I won’t fight you, James, but I also can’t let you kill me either. You need to snap out of it now, whatever _this_ is. I need you here.” He says as the silence stretches.

James tilts his head quizzically at the words, and Andrew nearly thinks he’s gotten through to him when the figure suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out in a terrifying _shriek_. Andrew clamps his hands over his ears as the sound pierces his ears painfully, as if knives were digging into his skull.

When it’s over, Andrew can still hear the remnants of the screech even as a deafening silence draws over the pair. There’s a sudden _tap tap tap_ as James suddenly charges him, closing the gap between them in seconds. Andrew deftly avoids a punch to the face, but not the knee to his stomach and he doubles over again in pain. James locks his fists together and prepares to bring them down over his leader’s head when Andrew tackles the figure and pins his arms at his side

“James-!” his cry is cut off as another terrific shriek cuts through the silence. Andrew freezes as James writhes under his weight, freeing a hand and leveraging it to throw the blue figure off, he slides across the glossy floor for a foot before finally coming to a rest.

Andrew snaps his head up the doors on the other side of the room are slammed open roughly and one, two, three more of his team enter the room, all sporting the same strangely glowing eyes. Andrew locks eyes with Omar as the figure expertly unsheathes his sword, the threat clear. Hang and Matt beside him similarly prepare for an attack.

Andrew whips his head around to face James as his second stands again, a snarl twisting his face. He weighs his options as he looks between them warily. One on one, he stood a chance. Four on one, however, he had no hope of overpowering them.

Andrew grits his teeth and swallows the frustration in his throat as he eyes the group surrounding him. He’d have to leave them, he realizes, he was no good to them dead and they were very much trying to end him. His throbbing wrist and sore throat remind him of this fact.

“Sorry guys.” He says to them as they close in on him threateningly, “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

He doesn’t wait for them to respond, if they even would have, instead he rushes at Omar and, waiting for him to swing, he ducks beneath the whistling blade and slides under the figure. Quickly recovering, Andrew slides to his feet but misjudges just how fast the swordsman was as he recovers from his missed mark and swings around to carve a clean slice through Andrew’s lower back.

Andrew sucks in a sharp breath as hot agony springs up from the wound, radiating across his back and dripping crimson blood to the floor. He hardly takes the time to assess the damage as he makes a break for the door, pure adrenaline keeping him on his feet, and upon reaching them, bursts through them as the four figures shriek bloody murder at his retreating form.

He risks a glance back and immediately wishes he hadn’t when he sees the quickly gaining forms of his friends bearing down on him. Gritting his teeth, he looks away and pushes harder aiming for the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

He bursts through the door as he reaches them and desperately turns on his heel to slam it closed behind him. He braces against the cool metal and tenses as his pursuers slam into the metal with a resounding _clang._

He struggles briefly against the combined weight working against him, and for a heart stopping moment he nearly loses the battle as the door inches open more and more. Andrew grits his teeth and digs his heels into the floor as they slip across the rough floor.

“You four, stand down NOW!” he yells in a last ditch attempt as his legs buckle and forces his burning muscles to relock them.

Surprisingly, the weight is lifted from the door and it slams closed with a sharp _clang_ nearly throwing Andrew to the floor _._ Regardless, he swiftly slides the emergency lock in place and leans against the cool metal with a relieved sigh.

“…James-?” he begins to call hesitantly through the metal before suddenly Omar’s blade pierces the metal not an inch from Andrew’s head.

His eyes widen in shock as his breath fogs the gleaming metal, and he tumbles away from the door with a cry as the metal glints dangerously in the gloomy dark. He watches as the blade is shimmied loose and retracted as a glowing eye peeks through the crack it created and bores into his form.

Andrew quickly gets to his feet as the blade again slices through the metal like butter and watches as it slowly, but efficiently, begins to carve a hole through the alloy. Not waiting around to see the result, Andrew ascends the stairs quietly, stumbling every so often in the darkness and huffing in pain as the movement pulls on his newest injury.

As he reaches the second floor, he weighs his options. Should he continue up, or bide his time on this floor until his pursuers give up the chase?

Hearing a bang two flights down and the thumping of feet racing up the stairs Andrew makes up his mind and exits the stairwell, slipping through the door as quietly as possible and slipping into the corner beside it as a poor excuse for a hiding place.

He waits with bated breath as the figures pause by the door, the seconds dragging by as the group seems to decide how to continue. Andrew strains his ears, his heart racing in his chest like a drum as they seem to consider their options. Finally, the group decidedly moves on and Andrew blows out his held breath with relief.

He tiptoes from the corner he’d backed into and cautiously reaches for his phone to illuminate his way. He instead finds empty space where the device had been, presumably lost during his tussle with James.

With a sigh, he continues forward, creeping past door after door until he reaches the end of the hall where he knew his own room to be. He needed to rest, his still racing heart reminded him, and he needed to formulate a plan on how to best deal with the situation that wasn’t just _avoid_ and _run_.

Huffing slightly with exertion as his newest injuries throbs painfully, he turns the knob and pushes, allowing the door to creak open and the scant light to illuminate the room. Seeing nothing, he steps forward confidently, feet creaking quietly as the carpet beneath him is replaced with hardwood.

Just as he turns to close the door behind him, he spots something odd on his desk that causes him to pause. Reaching forward, he plucks a dagger, Tucker’s dagger he realizes, from the smooth oak.

That was odd. Tucker never went anywhere without his daggers; he could literally summon them after all. So why were they in here of all places? His eyes widen as his brain supplies the answer to his question too late as he snaps his head to look up into the darkness.

“Now!” a voice yells.

 _They talked?!_ The question flashes through his mind rapidly, the others, as far as he knew, were mute. _That means…_

“Wai-!” he responds too late as a heavy weight plows into his back painfully knocking him over and digging a knee into his spine, knocking the breath out of him for the second time tonight. His back was going to be bruised if he survived this night he realizes.

“How’d they find us?” the one crouched on his back questions, Thomas he realizes, as he struggles to bring air back into his lungs.

“I don’t know, but we need to move. More are probably close by, and we’re not ready for another fight.” Tucker answers back.

Andrew strains against Thomas’ hold, gasping pathetically as he finally manages to get his breath back.

“Is he okay?” a new voice that he identifies as Kyle’s asks, concern heavy in his voice.

“I’d be better,” he gasps finally, “If Thomas wasn’t currently suffocating me.”

The three voices instantly go silent at his voice, shock heavy in the air.

“Andrew?” Tucker ventures hesitantly.

“The one and only,” he wheezes back, “Thomas, please. Get. Off. Me.”

The blue figure scrambles from his crouched position immediately, finally allowing Andrew to suck in a full breath of sweet oxygen. Tucker offers him a hand, and he accepts it gratefully, allowing the white figure to pull him to his feet.

“’Drew!” he nearly loses his balance again as Thomas throws himself at him again, tightly hugging him with relief. “When did you get back? How’d you even get in? What happened to your back?!“

“Thomas, slow down.” Tucker cuts in, “Let him breath for a second.”

Andrew pats Thomas’ back twice before gently pushing him off, nodding to Tucker gratefully he answers, “About an hour, through a window, and Omar got a lucky hit in earlier.”

The three before him share a look, one that he could only describe as hopeless, as Kyle shakes his head. “They’re trying to kill you too, huh?” he asks. Tucker steps forward without a word to inspect the wound on his back, prodding it gently as he assesses the damage. Andrew grits his teeth as the tender cut becomes agitated at the poking and steps away from the figure’s inspection.

He turns to face the three, leaning heavily against the desk, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms, “We can deal with that in a minute. For now, there’s a lot of explaining to do here, and seeing how you three are the only ones currently still sane, you’re going to have to be the ones who do it.”

“You’re bleeding, Andrew.” Tucker points out.

“I’ll live. Explanation. Now.”

“It’s kinda a long story ‘drew…” Thomas sheepishly rubs his neck.

“Give me the abridged version.”

Kyle and Tucker both glance at Thomas expectantly who stares back appalled as Andrew turns his steely gaze on him.

“You traitors.” He mutters, to which they merely shrug.

“I’m waiting, Thomas.” Andrew prompts.

The blue figure sighs, finally meeting his leader’s eyes, “Well, it started with some paint, and, well, a coconut…”

* * *

James enters the room cautiously, pushing the double doors open and stepping in. The others follow suit, crowding in behind him and bunching together near the entrance.

James could feel the tension from the team heavy in the air as he surveys the room. Mostly empty, the area was sparsely filled with a heavy mat in its center, and a few dummies scattered around randomly due to its function as their training area. There was a notable lack of their missing friends in the large space as his eyes swept the area.

So where were they?

He feels a squeeze on his shoulder and looks over to meet Matt’s eyes. Upon getting his attention, the pink figure jerks his chin up to indicate the balcony that wraps around the second story.

Following his gaze, he looks up to find Hang glaring down at them hatefully, his eyes a nasty beaming red. As he turns to look at the fire user, Hang slowly steps away from the railing until he’s out of sight from the group.

Staring at the spot the figure had disappeared James mentally comes up with a plan as the team watches him carefully. Coming to a silent agreement, he turns to face them, still bunched together at the door, and points out Matt and Ben.

“You two are with me. The rest of you fan out and make sure Mic isn’t hiding down around here. Do _not_ leave the door unguarded.”

The team nods at his command and obediently spreads out as he and his two chosen teammates begin to descend the stairs. Reaching the top, they immediately spot Hang as he glares at them angrily, his arms tucked neatly behind his back.

James slowly steps forward, feeling his teammates do the same as he pulls his hands up placatingly. Hang doesn’t react as they get closer and closer, merely standing unnaturally still as they approach, hardly appearing to breath.

“Hang,” James gently says, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you need to snap out of this.”

The figure doesn’t respond, or maybe couldn’t, only narrowing his eyes further as James speaks.

“Don’t make us fight you, Hang. Please.” He tries again.

Still no response to his words, this time however a smile that stretches long and sinister across his face sends chills up James’ spine. He prepares to engage, the threat clear, when he hears a strangled gasp to his right.

Whipping his head around, he feels his blood turn to ice in his veins as he watches Matt and Ben, both gripped tightly by Michael, fall limply to the floor. He ducks away as the gray figure makes a swipe at him. 

Michael had not been up here when his little group had pursued Hang, he was positive. The implications of that chilled him, something had to have happened in the short time they had confronted Hang and split up. But what?

He didn’t exactly have the chance to check before Matt and Ben decided it was time to rise, their eyes a dangerous matching crimson hue.

The two advance on him as he backs away step by step before he remembers the reason the three of them had come up here in the first place.

Sensing an incoming blow from behind, he ducks and skitters away from the grasping hands, his back landing against the cool railing as Hang growls at his missed opportunity. He nearly engages with the four as they regroup and set their sights on him, even if it wasn’t a fight he could win, he couldn’t imagine leaving them as they were, but just as he crouches Tucker’s words from earlier echo in his mind.

_Don’t let him touch you._

Without many other options, he glances to the four before him sadly one last time before he deftly jumps the balcony and lands neatly on the balls of his feet after the short drop to the floor below. The sight that meets him causes dread to weigh him down as he scans the room, the majority of the team was already gone and the remainder quickly succumbing as their numbers were overwhelmed.

_What have I done?_

“James!” a voice startles him out of his daze and he turns to see Tucker, Thomas, and Kyle back to back as they hold back a wave of the team bearing down on them. “We need to get out of here!” the white figure manages to grate out before a stray fist drives itself into his chest and he drops painfully.

Thomas and Kyle do their best to protect him as he works to get his breath back before they too are overwhelmed by the pressing crowd.

James narrows his eyes as he runs forward, dodging grasping hands and swinging fists.

 _They aren’t turned._ He notes as he deftly knocks the first three figures he sees feet from under them. Distracted as they were, they were wholly unprepared for an attack from their backs.

The groups surprise doesn’t last, however, as the three he’d managed to topple lurch to their feet, with several others coming to their aid. James, once again, finds himself backing away from his friends as they bear down on him threateningly.

 _At least those three have a chance now._ He thinks as he watches Thomas and Kyle help Tucker back to his feet. The white figure looks up, a pained grimace on his face as he watches their second effectively corner himself. It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were tiring, their earlier beatdown not helping in the least.

 _“_ We’re in over our heads here guys!” he calls to the them as they keep the few fighters still on them barely at bay, “It’s up to you three to figure this mess out now! They can’t turn you, use that to your advantage!”

He kicks Sean’s legs from beneath him and gracefully jumps back to get some space to slip him phone from his pocket. In his last act, he wouldn’t allow them out, and he’d protect those who were left to the best of his ability.

As he activates the lockdown sequence, he grips his phone and smashes it roughly into the hard concrete floor. The screen shatters under the impact, rendering it unusable and ensuring that even he wouldn’t be able to disable it.

“And if you see Andrew,” he pauses briefly as he avoids a tackle from Brian, “tell him I said I’m sorry.”

“No!” Kyle cries as their second finally runs out of room to run and is overrun.

“We need to go now!” Tucker demands.

“We can’t just-!” Thomas rounds on him.

“We’ll save them later! They’ll kill us!” Tucker cuts him off with a snap. “He gave us a chance so we can fix this. _Now_ Thomas. _Please.”_

Thomas visibly grits his teeth, his jaw grinding with frustration as he hesitantly turns to follow Tucker and Kyle, but not before snatching a metal rod commonly used for their matches from the ground. The three of them run as the crowd once again chases them from the training room.

As soon as the double doors slam closed behind him, Thomas turns and using the rod he’d taken earlier, locks the door behind them. The group on the other side pound on the flimsy barricade, but it ultimately holds against the onslaught.

He turns back to the two, “What should we do now?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle answers as Tucker grimaces in pain. “What _can_ we do? We’re locked in, and our entire team is trying to kill us.”

Thomas looks away as silence descends on their little group, gripping his arm anxiously.

“James trusted us to figure this out. For all of them, we _have_ to figure it out.” he says quietly.

Tucker finally gets his breath back and straightens from his hunched position to answer them both. “For now, we should regroup. We’re hurt and tired, and we can’t take another encounter like that.”

Thomas shakes his head, “We’re just going to leave them?” he asks, his voice tight with misery.

“What other choice do we have?” Tucker answers.

The white figure examines Thomas, noting his dejected hunch and the misery shining in his eyes before sighing, “We’ll fix this Thomas, I know we can.”

Thomas looks up to meet his eyes before giving him a small smile.

“This is all very motivating and all,” Kyle suddenly breaks in, “but I think we should get moving before they manage to burn through the door.”

It was then that the two figures heard the faint sizzling accompanied by the acrid scent of burning metal. Thomas yelps as his back is singed partially and he jumps away from the door, rubbing his stinging skin.

The three watch as the handles of the door begin to warp and bend under the intense heat, dripping metallic lava to the floor.

“Where should we go?” Thomas asks, not taking his eyes from the glowing metal.

Kyle and Tucker seem to contemplate briefly before the latter snaps his fingers.

“I have an idea…”

* * *

As the three’s quiet murmuring dies off and plunges the dimly lit room into silence, Andrew sits back from his crossed legged position, careful to not pull on his injury, to observe the three figures. They looked tired, beat up, and all around defeated.

“We couldn’t do anything, ‘drew.” Thomas mutters, “We just ran.”

“You did what you could,” Andrew sighs, “staying would have just gotten you killed.”

“Yeah, well, it still feels kinda crappy.” Kyle grunts dejectedly. The other two remain quiet but look away with silent agreement.

“I know it was a difficult decision,” Andrew consoles, “Believe me. I _know._ But moping about it isn’t going to fix anything. You three _did_ do the right thing, even if you don’t believe it.”

His words straighten their hunched forms only minutely, but they nod regardless.

“So what’s the plan, anyway?” Kyle asks with interest, wanting to move on from the topic.

Andrew mulls over his options silently as the three mutter amongst themselves. As much as the thought of having backup against the rest of the team was nice, he also had to consider that the more of them in a group, the harder it was to stay hidden.

Besides that, he eyes the way Tucker discretely clutches his chest, his freshly healed ribs seemingly smarting. Thomas’ new burns and bruises crawling up his arms and face, and Kyle’s busted lip and bruised, half swollen eye.

“I want you guys to stay here.” He decides finally, making eye contact with each of them. “It’s too dangerous for all of us to go out together, we could get caught and overwhelmed too easily. I’ll go and see if I can find any clues in Michael’s room, if this think came from there, then maybe there’s some clues on how to deal with it too.”

The three before him share disbelieving looks before Thomas shakes his head, “No, ‘drew, you’re not going back out there alone.”

“That’s an _order_.” He commands, steeling his gaze and leveling it with Thomas’ determined glare.

“That’s nice,” Thomas snipes back, “but we’re still not letting you go out alone.”

“Thomas…” Andrew warns, his patience thinning.

“I’m with him, dude.” Kyle interrupts, jerking a thumb towards Thomas, “If you feel as shitty as you look right now, then you don’t stand a chance if they catch you.”

Tucker merely raises a brow as Andrew looks to him for support.

“You honestly don’t expect me to agree to your suicide mission, right?” he asks.

Andrew presses his lips together and sighs with exasperation. 

“Will you three just _listen?”_

“You first Andrew,” Thomas says with steel in his tone, dropping the affectionate pet name he typically uses for him, “We watched the _entire_ team go down to this thing. _Everybody._ We’re not going to let another one of ours go down again while we do nothing.”

Andrew opens his mouth to retort and closes it at the looks the boys are giving him. Annoyance, yes, but also underneath the is heavy guilt and steely determination. He rubs at the nape of his neck anxiously as the three silently await his final order.

“If we make it through this,” he warns, coming to a decision, “you three are going to be on C level missions for 2 weeks.”

“Yes!” Thomas whoops as Kyle and Tucker simultaneously slap a hand over his mouth. They all strain their ears over the ringing silence, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Hearing nothing, they all breathe a sigh of relief, and Tucker cuffs Thomas with annoyance.

“Don’t make him change his mind.” He chastises as Thomas grumbles in protest.

Andrew smiles at their antics, but feels his heart clench anxiously. How were they going to deal with this, with minimal injuries? With their little group of four against the entire team, the odds were not in their favor.

 _Not to mention, they’re all hurt._ He notes to himself, feeling his own injuries flare up at the reminder. There was also the problem of the lockdown in place, making it impossible to even call backup, not that they had any in the first place.

Frustration began to bubble in his chest fiercely as each new thought backed them further and further into a corner. There was no easy way to deal with this situation, every scenario led them to injuries, or worse, on their current team, or on their friends who had no control over themselves.

“Andrew…?”

The blue figure blinks rapidly as the voice snaps him out of his rapid thoughts and he focuses on the owner of the voice, specifically Tucker, who eyes him with a creased brow. 

“Do you have any ideas?”

Andrew sighs and rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“You said this thing came from Mic’s room?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“It was in his bag.” Thomas confirms with a nod.

“Then, like I said, that’s where we’ll head first.” Andrew decides, “We can at least look around, see if he left any clues on how to deal with this thing.”

The three nod in agreement, determination steeling their gazes as they stand and prepare to depart.

“Are you sure you three are up for this?” Andrew asks as he notices a wince from Tucker as he pulls his ribs.

“We’re fine, Andrew.” Tucker insists as he rubs at his chest.

Andrew creases his brow but nods anyway, “Then let’s go.”

* * *

“This seems a little _too_ familiar, doncha’ think?” Thomas asks as they creep from the room, aiming for the stairwell at the far end of the hall.

Andrew was inclined to agree, between the entire situation and the same group from back then, he was feeling some serious déjà vu.

“’Cept this time, we’re being hunted by our friends and we’re trapped in here with no way out.” Kyle adds.

“Don’t be such a downer, dude.” Thomas replies flatly.

“That is literally what’s happening right now.”

Tucker and Andrew shush the two as their bickering begins to raise in pitch as Andrew quietly approaches the door to the stairwell. Placing an ear against the cool metal, he strains his ears to listen for any movement on the other side.

Hearing nothing, he carefully eases the door open, wincing at the creak it produces in the silence. They were seriously going to have to oil these things when this was over.

Poking his head into the dark stairwell he looks up and down keeping an eye out for any telltale glowing eyes. Finding nothing he gives the all clear and gestures for the others to follow as he slips into the narrow space and tiptoes upstairs.

They reach Michael’s room with relative ease, suprisingly finding none of the remaining defenders along the way. It was almost disconcerting just how deserted the building felt, and Andrew felt a concerning pressure bearing down on their group as they creeped up to the room and entered it with barely a whisper.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Kyle opens his hand and allows a fireball to dance on his palm, bathing the tiny room in a viridescent light.

“You have about 15 minutes.”

The remaining three nod in understanding and fan out to different corners of the room as Kyle leans against the door. His hands currently occupied, he’d act as their lookout while the others searched.

Andrew and Tucker almost immediately end their search as Tucker shuffles through the desk and finds all the drawers empty. Similarly, Andrew finds nothing but dust and old crumpled balls of paper within the dresser.

They finally reconvene at the bed where Thomas is dumping the duffle bag containing Michaels meager belongings on the bed. Various art supplies dot the mattress, including pencils, old markers, and some sketchbooks, but nothing else of use that could have helped with their investigation.

Andrew blows out a breath in frustration as their search comes to a screeching halt with nothing to show for it.

“Put your flames out before you hurt yourself.” He orders Kyle who obediently closes his hand to snuff out the fire. The room is instantly thrown into darkness, matching the gloomy mood.

Thomas flops on the bed with a groan and throws and arm over his eyes, and Tucker joins him sitting with a sigh beside him.

“Alright fearless leader, what now?” Thomas asks.

“Give me a minute.” Comes the tight reply as Andrew begins to pace.

Tucker fiddles with his bandana as he lays back too, allowing his aching chest to stretch out and relax. So much for finally being healed.

Nobody talks as the seconds tick by into minutes, not willing to risk the attention of the others that may be prowling in the halls.

Tucker stretches, carefully avoiding pulling at his ribs, and adjusts his awkward position on the bed. The two had neglected to remove the various art supplied littering the comforter and, as a result, the various markers were now digging into his back.

As he wiggles around, he suddenly feels the heavy weight of a book sliding against his shoulder. Which shouldn’t have been possible, because despite not bothering with the art supplies, they had made sure to remove the few sketchbooks they had found and replace them on the desk. Not to mention, this didn’t feel like the light and thin sketchbooks, this book felt heavy and thick.

With confusion, he plucks the worn book where it had come to rest and sits up to inspect the smooth leather in the poor light.

 _It’s a journal._ He realizes as he thumbs the soft pages and flips it open randomly.

“Andrew.” He calls, “I found something.”

Andrew immediately comes over to the pair as Thomas scoots closer to look over Tucker’s shoulder and squints in the darkness to attempt to make out the object.

“A book? He has, like, 10 of those.” Thomas huffs.

“It’s not just a book, it’s Mic’s personal journal. Maybe there’s something about that thing that got him? He seemed to know what it was before it jumped him earlier.”

Andrew holds a hand out in question, and Tucker drops the tome into his open palm. Pulling it back to himself, he flips the journal open to a random page and squints to try and make sense of the words in the darkness.

When all he can make out is dark smudges in the gloom, he sighs and gestures to Kyle to join them who pushes himself off the door, his fire already burning brightly.

Andrew nods gratefully at him before turning back to the open book and quickly skimming the passage on the page. It was dated just over 2 years ago, right around the time he’d decided to leave them and make his own way. While the information was interesting, it was ultimately useless for their current problem. He turned to the next page, dated a week after the first, and found similarly nothing of note.

A minute turned into to 10, and 10 into 20 as he glanced over each passage before moving on to the next when it didn’t yield any relevant information. More than once Kyle has to extinguish his flames before they begin to blister his hands, .

He nearly flips it closed as the time ticks away, well aware they were essentially sitting ducks, but stops when one particular entry catches his eye. Dated about a year after Michael’s departure, it was short, hardly half a page long, but detailed a events chillingly similar to their own.

_There’s been an incident. The entire town, the dojo, and the surrounding forest nearly fell to me today. A single person nearly took down all of Aegis._

_A parasitic demon disguised as a fruit managed to get the drop on me and went about taking everyone in the vicinity down with me. It was odd, those touched would convert and attack those around them. Not everyone was able to convert, however, and would attract the aggression of the converted._

_Or so I’m told. I wasn’t conscious for the entire thing and woke up at the dojo surrounded by a very irate town, and Jade looking to strangle me. Hyun managed to stop her, but I can tell she’s still very upset with me. I’ll have to make it up to her somehow later._

_In the end, Lillian managed to knock it off of me, but we lost the thing in the process. We’re not sure where it went, or if it’ll be back, but I’ve decided to take extra precautions anyway._

_The town seems to be very wary of me now, but they don’t seem to distrust me, per se. Even Jade. Although she has promised to “keep a closer eye on me from now on.” I don’t think this was supposed to be comforting for me, and more a warning, but I appreciate it anyway._

_Ultimately, things are mostly back to normal, but I suspect that thing will be back. One way or another._

“So we just have to get it off him?”

Andrew is snapped out of his skimming by Kyle’s query, who had evidently been reading over his shoulder with him.

“All this just for it to tell us what we already knew?” Thomas grumbles, “Did it mention anything _helpful?”_

“Just that it took down the town, and the dojo.” Andrew says tightly, “I’m starting to think we may have underestimated this thing.”

“It’s a _coconut.”_ Thomas says as he massages his temples.

“It’s a _parasite,_ actually.” Andrew shoots back, “That explains Mic, at least. It’s controlling him directly, but that _doesn’t_ explain the other’s behavior. How is it controlling them too, through just touch?”

The question hangs in the air for a beat before Thomas groans. “I really hate Aegis’ magic.”

“We just don’t understand it.” Tucker responds before turning to Andrew, “What’s the plan now?”

Andrew’s frown deepens as he considers for a moment, “I guess now, we find Mic.” comes his answer.

“Easier said than done. The whole teams between us and him, and they don’t go down easy. Not to mention it’s 6 to 1.” Kyle interjects.

“We’ll just have to avoid them like we’ve been doing.” Tucker says.

Andrew nods, “We avoid notice until we find Mic. He’s our primary goal now.”

The others nod on agreement and they once again stand and prepare to leave.

“We should check the training room first. That’s the last place we saw him, but it’s probably also still crawling with the team so it’s up to you.” Tucker suggests.

Andrew nods, “We’ll check it out, just remember: don’t engage if you can help it.”

“Yeah, T.” Kyle ribs Thomas playfully, “don’t forget the last time we were given the order to not engage? _That_ was a disaster.”

“Hey!” Thomas stands, “we won, didn’t we? I just… sped up the attack a little.”

“We almost died, Thomas.”

“But we didn’t!” he responds brightly, “And that’s what matters!”

He steps past the group to stand before the door, “Ready?”

Thomas opens the door, his grin dropping and his face paling, as he immediately slams it closed, bracing himself against it in a panic, much to the confusion of the rest of the group.

“Okay, not to freak you guys out or anything,” he says as he struggles to find the lock on the knob, “but there’s definitely a whole bunch of them out there right now.”

“Did they see you?!” Andrew demands.

“I made eye contact with _a lot_ of them.” Thomas answers tightly.

Andrew sucks in a sharp breath as pounding on the door begins to beat like a drum against the wood. Thomas stumbles away just in time as a blade is thrust through the wood, disturbingly familiar to Andrew’s encounter earlier.

They had been tracked and followed. Or there had been a systematic search of each floor. Or they had been too loud and were detected. Regardless, they were now cornered in a tight space, and vastly outnumbered.

“New plan.” He says as the wood groans under the beating, “We fight here.”

“Remember that thing I said about us being _really_ outnumbered?” Kyle says, “I feel like it needs to be reiterated.”

Andrew clenches his fists and looks away, “We don’t have a lot of other options.”

“Don’t worry ‘drew,” Thomas squeezes his shoulder briefly before stepping back to stand beside Tucker who’d pulled his bandana to cover his mouth and summoned his twin daggers, “We can take ‘em.”

Andrew’s eyes flicker to Kyle who had taken a similar stance, his flames flickering wildly up his arms, bathing the room in wildly dancing light. He nods tightly at them before turning back to the door as a fist crashes through the wood.

 _James._ Andrew recognizes the purple fist as it retracts from the jagged hole, _How many of you guys are out there?_

Dread pools in his stomach heavily, but he drops into a crouch regardless, preparing to take the first of the entering figures.

“Stay strong guys.” He calls back to them as the door finally collapses under the barrage and they swarm in.

Immediately, Andrew trips Brian as the figure rushes him, he hardly pauses before springing up to throw a fist into Waqas’ face. He winces as the figure falls back, but is interrupted as James appears suddenly before him. His world wobbles as James lands a solid punch on him, knocking him back into the hard floor. He attempts to stand but his efforts are impeded as he feels hands grab him and drag him up roughly.

“James-!” he’s cut off as the figure slams another fist into him, this time into his temple causing the world to darken briefly. Dazedly, he glances out of the corner of his eye just in time to see Thomas and Tucker, back to back, disappear under the crowd. Kyle, his flames doused to avoid burning the others, is kicked hard into the floor where he stays until Andrew loses sight of him under the pressing bodies. It was nearly suffocating, how many had squeezed into the tiny room, pressing tighter.

“You all listen!” he commands as the grip on him tightens uncomfortably, “Whatever’s controlling you, don’t let it win!”

The others consider him briefly, and he feels hope swell, but is quashed as James knees him in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.

As he gasps, trying vainly to get his breath back, someone brings their fists down hard over the back of his head, his already bruised skull pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat, and his vision goes black.

* * *

Andrew wakes up in a room he doesn’t recognize. Or maybe that was the concussion talking.

Consciousness comes to him slowly, his cheek pressed uncomfortably into the hard floor, and he groans quietly as his head pounds at the movement.

 _Where…?_ The thought hardly passes through his mind before he jolts in realization and moves to stand, or he tries to anyway as he finds his hands and ankles bound tightly. He lays his aching head against the cool hardwood for a moment before turning to survey his surroundings instead.

From his position, he can just barely make out the unmoving heap of the others. He squints and can just make out the faint rise and fall of Tucker’s chest.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he spots Thomas and Kyle beside him, all three were bound similarly to him, but they were all blissfully breathing.

So they were all alive. Why?

Before, they had had no qualms in taking them out, the throbbing slice in his back a constant reminder of that, so why had they decided to take them alive this time?

There was no way of knowing, but it was almost certainly nothing good. Andrew didn’t plan on sticking around to find out just what they had planned.

Moving was difficult, even more so with his various injuries screaming at his wiggling, but he eventually manages to flip onto his back and forces himself into a sitting position.

The hard part over, he scooches over to Tucker and hisses at the poor state he was in.

His trademark bandana was missing, presumably torn off during the altercation, and blood was caked on the side of his head as if he too got the bad end of one of their fighters similarly to himself. He breathes shallowly, obviously trying to avoid agitating his ribs further.

Andrew looks past him and makes out Thomas and Kyle’s limp forms, each sporting their own new injuries. Alive, but beat within an inch of their life.

Andrew’s eyebrows crease, but he nudges Tucker with his knee anyway. It would do no good to stay here too, they needed to get moving.

After a few minutes of jostling, Tucker groans quietly and shifts. His eyes crack open and he blearily squints at Andrew leaning over him.

“Wha happen’?” he croaks up at him.

“We lost.” He answers, “I know you’re hurt, but I need you to untie me so we can get out of here. Can you do that?”

Tucker’s eyes shine with pain, but he nods regardless, and Andrew braces him with his shoulder to help him up. Finally upright, Tucker hunches over as a wave of dizziness appears to cloud his mind but summons his daggers into existence a moment later, clumsily sawing through the ropes binding his wrists first.

Andrew watches the slow progress anxiously as the time ticks by, well aware the longer they remained here the more likely their captors were to return.

Finally, Tucker’s severed ropes fall to the ground and he rubs his wrists to get the blood flowing through them again before turning to get to work on Andrew’s own bindings.

He hardly has time to touch the rope, however, before the door is suddenly thrust open, allowing several of their fallen team members entry into their little converted cell.

“No!” Andrew yells as they glare at the pair, already advancing on them. “Tucker, send your weapons away. Now!”

Tucker grips his daggers tightly, evidently weighing his options on whether he could win this fight or not, but Andrew can see the slight tremble to his frame as exhaustion had finally set in from the long night, and he knew it. He opens his hands and allows the blades to disappear in a flash and holds them up in surrender.

The others reach him and gruffly twist his arms behind his back to retie them with new rope. Wordlessly, they pull Andrew and Tucker to their feet, and drag Thomas and Kyle limply to theirs, to lead them out of the room.

Once out in the open, Andrew’s finally able to identify where they’d been kept. It was a storage closet, based in the main control hub of the entire building up above the dorms and stationed in the attic.

He stumbles to his knees as he’s shoved roughly forward, the others notably kept back, and he looks ahead right at the one they’d been searching for.

Michael stands with his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of patience, his boots, the only part of armor he currently wore, shining in the gloomy light. The only difference was the rough coconut currently covering his skull.

“Mic-“ he starts to say, but is cut off as the figure holds up a hand to stop him and gestures silently behind himself at the blinking control panel.

Andrew blinks in confusion as Michael taps an irritated rhythm into the metal.

“You want me to…?” He asks as the others look on expectantly.

Michael gestures to the windows, to the outside where moonlight was filtering in through the glass.

“You want out?” he asks him, to which Mic nods eagerly in return.

“You want me to lift the lockdown.” It wasn’t a question this time, merely fact as Michael goes completely still, boring his gaze into his leader expectantly.

“I hate to break it to you,” he grounds out roughly, “but I’m not letting any of you out of here so you can do what you did to my team to the rest of the world. Forget it.”

Michael tilts his head in what could be read as annoyance, but felt more like amusement. He snaps his fingers sharply and Andrew feels that same sinking dread in his stomach he’d been feeling all night rear its head again. There was something very threatening about the gesture that words couldn’t describe.

There’s a startled “Stop!” behind him, and he twists around urgently towards the source of the demand.

The sight that greets him causes his heart to leap into his throat in panic. Eric is standing over an unconscious Thomas, his gun, a deadly sniper rifle, loaded and aimed at the unconscious form beneath him with deadly accuracy.

“You wouldn't.” Andrew breaths in disbelief.

He watches as the figure, without looking up from his hostage, smoothly pulls the bolt and loads a bullet into the chamber. The telltale sound of the sniper's gun cocking is sharp in the still silence.

Andrew shivers at the familiar sound, "Wait..."he calls, the tiniest tinge of desperation beginning to edge his voice. “I said wait!” he orders as the figure makes no move to stop his attack.

Whipping around to face Michael, who was watching the exchange with a curious tilt, he shouts “Call him off!”

When the figure makes no move to stop the shot, Andrew attempts to stand but falls as his bound ankles trip him up. He watches as Tucker nearly breaks free from his restrainers but is roughly subdued by the others as Eric places a foot on Thomas’ chest to steady his aim.

“I’ll do it!” he yells too late as Eric's finger slides onto the trigger purposefully and pulls. Andrew closes his eyes at the last moment, turning away as the gunshot echoes deafeningly in the still air, only just blocking out the strangled howl from Tucker.

He listens to Tuckers ragged breathing, fearing the worst, a sick burning in his belly. A fiery anger bubbles in his chest briefly, but is soon drowned out by consuming grief as he rests his forehead against the ground in defeat.

"Fuck you! " he hears Tucker growl out, angrier than Andrew has ever heard him before. "Andrew, he's fine!"

The blue figure, tenses as the words process through his sluggish brain. His eyes snap open as understanding dawns on him, and he cranes his neck, searching in the gloom for the group. Through the gloom he makes out the group, Eric's aim had been forcefully knocked off, seemingly by Tucker who was currently wrestling with 3 others as they force him back down to a kneeling position.

Andrew squints at the black figure on the ground, inspecting him as best he can from his current position and sagging in relief as he's rewarded with the uninjured form. Even from there, he can make out the barely discernable rise and fall of Thomas' chest as the figure breathes evenly in his sleep, unaware of just how close he'd been to death. His brief respite is shattered, however, as Eric swings the gun around to level on the white figure instead. Tucker flinches imperceptibly at the threat but steadfastly glares daggers at his friend.

"Eric..." he hears Tucker warn lowly, "if you do that again I _will_ burn your hat." The sniper merely glares at the threat, unbothered, but makes no move to pull the trigger on his weapon, instead he leaves the threat hanging in the air. They'd gotten what they'd wanted, after all.

Andrew breathes out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, sagging with relief. How many times were they going to give him heart attacks like that? First Bog, and now this, he wouldn’t live past 50 at this point.

He barely has time to get his strength back before he’s roughly grabbed and, his binding severed, shoved forward, falling to his knees as the momentum carries his directly in front of Michael. He glares up at the figure, into the hollow holes where his warm green eyes normally would be, and stands.

Michael steps aside and sweeps his hands at the console invitingly. Andrew steps forward to lay his hands delicately against the controls, and begins drumming them against their surfaces gently.

His mind fires a mile a minute as he carefully considers his next move. Escaping was out of the question. Two were currently unconscious and Tucker was on his last legs as it was. Not to mention the crowd watching them painfully, suffocatingly close.

Lifting the lockdown was out too. _Maybe_ the dojo and Nemesis would be able to take care of this thing again, but from the sounds of the journal entry, they were easily overwhelmed as well. Letting it start here in Slush City, far away from Aegis' aid, was almost certain disaster for the rest of the world.

So the only option was to get Michael away from the group and get the parasite off of him. But how?

Andrew glances up discreetly aiming to look assess his surroundings, but is met with the hollow glare from the coconut instead. It raises Michael’s hand again as it meets Andrew’s eyes, aiming to snap his fingers.

“I got it!” Andrew snaps at it. It lets the hand linger in the air threateningly for a moment before lowering it.

The warning was clear: _hurry it up_.

Andrew moves his gaze back to the blinking command panel testily, but in that brief moment he’d seen exactly what he needed to. Behind Michael, roughly 10 feet from where they stood, was the stairwell they’d presumably been dragged up not too long ago, the door braced open.

If he could get Mic there, away from the crowding minions surrounding them, then perhaps, one-on-one, he’d manage to get that _thing_ off of him.

“…If I do this, will you let them go? _All_ of them?” Andrew asks, “Even Mic?”

The creature regards him for a cold second before shaking Michael’s head no. It raises his hand to rest against the gray figure’s chest in possessively, but sweeps a hand out towards the others in agreement.

_Mine, but the others are free._

Andrew shakes his head, “There are other, more powerful hosts outside. Like Hyun, or Jade..?” The words are acid on his tongue as he throws Michaels allies under the bus, but he had to make this look convincing, he couldn’t give in without some haggling.

The creature seems to regard him with something like disdain before shaking Michael’s head again slowly.

“…Fine.” Andrew concedes, “Just the others then.”

He holds a hand out to Michael, “Shake on it.”

‘Michael’ stares at the outstretched appendage for far too long, and Andrew almost feels hopeless as his already shaky plan begins to fall apart. He hadn’t counted on the thing refusing to shake, and kind of hinged on him doing so.

Just as he’s about to drop the hand and come up with some other half baked idea, it suddenly raises Michael’s hand and firmly grasps Andrew’s in agreement.

Andrew covers his surprise with a smile, “Glad you agree. There’s just one more thing…” He suddenly grips at Michael’s forearm with his free hand, ”I _will_ be taking him back too.” And he throws the gray figure, easily considering how light he’d become, well away from the outraged crowd behind him.

‘Michael’ slams into the railing of the stairs, the sharp ringing from the impact echoing loudly down the stairwell. Where a normal person would have to catch their breath, he just shakes off the sting and stands. Andrew suspected the parasite had forced him to do so.

Quickly, Andrew rushes the barely winded Michael, aiming to knock the thing off his skull once and for all. He expected it to be shaken by the attack. He expected it to go down easily. He did not expect it to grab his wrist with surprising dexterity, halting his strike with shocking strength, and a suffocating grip on his throat with his remaining hand.

Suddenly, it’s Andrew on defense as he struggles vainly against the tightening grip on his throat. He’s hauled bodily to the railing and shoved against the cool metal roughly. He cracks open an eyelid as he claws at the arm gripping him angrily and glares.

‘Michael’ glares right back, somehow conveying his displeasure through look alone. The parasite raises his hand again in that same threatening way and Andrew feels desperation coil tightly in his stomach.

He barely stops to consider the consequences before he hooks a leg under Michael and pulls them both over the railing, sending them away from the group and tumbling painfully down to the second floor where they come to a rest breathlessly.

Andrew was definitely going to feel that, along with all his other injuries, tomorrow, but he’d managed to get the both of them away from the group successfully. By the sounds 2 floors up, he figured he had a less than a minute at best before the rest of the team caught up to them.

He pushes himself shakily up, eyes darting around to spot Michael. A few steps down, the figure lay motionless, laying awkwardly across the landing of the second floor.

Andrew feels his heart leap in his throat as the figure appears to not even breath, and he scrambles to his side ignoring the parasite affixed to his skull for the moment. His hands hover over his body anxiously as if he’s afraid to touch him, and he settles on checking on his pulse.

He reaches forward, preparing to press his fingers against his throat when Michaels hand shoots up to grip his wrist painfully tight. Andrew jumps at the sudden movement and tries and fails to pull away from the unnaturally strong grip as the figure sits up.

The creature’s hollow eyes bore into Andrew’s as it stands and forcefully drags him to his feet. It shakes ‘Michael’s’ head almost regretfully before slinging Andrew painfully into the railing.

“Augh!” Andrew cries as the gash on his back takes the brunt of the hit, and he braces himself against the railing to prevent himself from sliding to the floor.

‘Michael’ faces him, hateful anger radiating off his silent form as he raises a hand in a familiar gesture. Andrew can’t even muster the strength, let alone the speed, to stop him before he snaps again. The sound echoes sharply in the space, intermingled with Andrew’s ragged breathing. The implications freeze his heart, and the pair pause listening intently to the group two floors up.

“Andrew!” Tucker calls down after a moment, his strained voice bouncing off the walls of the stairwell, “You’ve got about a minute!”

“Try 30 _seconds_! Hurry up down there!” he hears Thomas snap, awake and fighting.

Andrew freezes in shock as his mind sluggishly tries to process the voices. Less that a second later, he feels overwhelming, knee buckling relief and he grins as he pulls himself to his feet. He levels a glare on ‘Michael’ who had frozen as the parasite peers up the stairs in puzzlement.

“Alright, Mic. Let’s get that thing off of you.”

* * *

Tucker tracks Andrew as he and Michael disappear over the railing into the dark stairwell below, his eyes widening as dread pools in his stomach heavily.

“Andrew!” he calls desperately as he struggles under the weight holding him down; he growls in frustration when he receives no answer and the pressure increases on his back.

“Get off!” he shouts angrily as more and more of his friend’s pile on him, efficiently halting his struggling.

“No you don’t!” he snarls as Omar pries his blade from the ground and moves to follow them. “Stop!”

Omar ignores him, pushing past the struggling pile of bodies and makes it all of two steps before a hand shoots out and hooks his ankle sending him face first into the ground.

Tucker stops struggling in confusion as Omar pushes himself up and rubs his face painfully. He looks back, glaring angrily at the one who had caused his sudden fall. At the same time, the weight bearing down on Tucker’s form suffocatingly is suddenly lifted and he sucks in a deep breath of sweet oxygen. He glances up appreciatively and is only mildly surprised to see Thomas’ bedraggled form above him.

Thomas wobbles unsteadily, but still manages to clear the team away from Tucker as he catches his breath, Kyle beside him is leaning heavily against him as he shakes his own dizziness away. Tucker takes the proffered hand that’s offered to him from the black figure and is pulled to his feet.

“Protect the door!” Tucker barely takes the time to catch his breath before pushing, shoving, and tripping anybody in his path to stand protectively in the doorway, dragging a half awake Kyle and Thomas with him as he went. They barely avoid an angry swipe from Omar as they leap over him as he struggles to his feet, but somehow make it to the door without any other encounters.

“Andrew!” Tucker calls, assuming, praying, that he was alive down there as the snarling mass in front of them rushes forward to engage once again, “You have about a minute!”

* * *

Andrew rushes forward, leaving his exhaustion behind as he draws a fist back, aiming to knock the thing right off Michael’s head in one hit as he had aimed to do earlier.

‘Michael’ lets him, making no move to avoid the hit as Andrew closes in and throws his fist directly into the shell.

“Gah!” he cries as his knuckles crack painfully under the impact.

 _Should have seen that coming…_ he thinks ruefully as he shakes the pain out of his hand and quickly tries to backtrack away to gain some space.

Unfortunately, ‘Michael’ is faster and raises a gilded foot, aiming for Andrew’s exposed chest to send him toppling down the steps. The blue figure manages to block the kick at the last moment, and grabs the appendage to swing him around, sending him tumbling down in a heap at the landing instead.

‘Michael’ hardly takes the time to shake off the pain before he stands, but instead of him advancing like Andrew thought, he merely stares up at him and waits.

“What? Done already?” Andrew growls at the silence.

“I can do this all night.” He snaps as he gets no response, “And even if I can’t, you’ll still _never_ get out. They’ll make sure of it. Even if I die here, you’ll _lose_. So why don’t you take the hint, and _get off of him._ ”

“I’ve already won.” A smooth, melodic voice says, and Andrew barely has time to register that the strange voice was coming from Michael before he hears a strangled cry from above followed by silence.

Andrew looks up, eyes widening as he sees glowing crimson glaring back at him from 2 stories up. If they had gotten through, then that meant…

Andrew snaps his head down to glare at the figure in front of him, paying no mind to the quickly advancing group above him. He charges at the figure again, rushing forward until he’s nearly in front of him. ‘Michael’ once again lets him, confidence dripping off his relaxed form.

Time to switch tactics, if his throbbing hand was any indication. If hitting it straight on couldn’t budge it, maybe all he had to was try from a different angle. With perhaps a _little_ more force than was strictly necessary.

“Sorry Mic, you may have a bit of a headache in the morning.” He says as he flips into a handstand to slam into the shell of the coconut with the soles of his feet. The result is almost comically easy as the shell pops off with hardly a sound and knocks it to the floor where it rests innocently.

Andrew stumbles back to his feet and immediately whips around to assess the advancing team, some merely feet away from where he stood he realized disconcertingly. Of the ones closest to him, each one blinks rapidly and shakes whatever fog was clouding their minds roughly, seemingly confused at their surroundings.

“-Drew…?” Michael slurs behind him, catching Andrew’s attention again as he sways dizzily back and forth, “I’m sorry.” He manages to say as he loses consciousness and falls. Andrew stumbles forward clumsily and just manages to catch him as he falls bonelessly forward.

Andrew feels the strength suddenly leave him at Michael’s added weight, the relief coupled with his injuries finally catching up with him turning his legs to jelly, and they both fall over in heap. He blearily hears shouts of confusion turn to concern over the ringing in his ears as the team slowly wakes from their control.

He blinks and suddenly James is there, crouching over him as he gently lifts Michael’s weight from his chest and lays him aside. His eyes roam across their bodies as he assesses them both quickly for injury as others crowd around them.

Andrew struggles to sit up, finding the action frustratingly difficult. James presses a hand down on his shoulder, forcing him back to the floor much to his annoyance.

“We have some catching up to do, on both sides,” he hears James say distantly, “But for now, just rest.”

“It’s fine.” Andrew snaps as he moves to brush the hand away, or tries to anyway as he finally falls unconscious against his will.

* * *

James stalks up and down the length of the hallway, wearing a path into the carpet as his pacing brings him to the end of the hall and back again.

This had almost been catastrophic; one creature had nearly wiped out the entire group. All thanks to the actions of one parasitic fruit.

 _All thanks to me._ He thinks ruefully as his march brings him back to the end of the hall. He blows out a sigh and turns again, but instead of traversing the length of the hall he comes to a rest in front of the door leading to their infirmary.

He wars with himself for a moment, one side arguing to leave them be and the other desperately wanting to check on them. Again.

The former wins out, anxiety gnaws at his gut as he quietly pushes the door open and steps in. Currently, only two of the original 5 injured were here, with the remaining 3 recovering in their rooms due to lack of room. Andrew and Tucker lay in the only two beds available, the latter still unconscious, while the former sat up in his bed a pained grimace twisting his face.

“Need anything?” James whispers, trying to not disturb the other occupant of the room.

Andrew jumps at his voice, evidently not picking up on his quiet approach, and turns to face him, any pain he was feeling forgotten as he leans forward intently, several questions already on the tip of his tongue.

“How’s-?”

“Everyone’s fine.” James reassures him. “A little tired, and a few injured, but we’re all recovering fine.”

“What about the city?” Andrew rasps tiredly.

“The chief said they could handle it. He’ll call if anything comes up that they can’t handle.”

The entire team was disoriented and sluggish today, so they’d decided to direct all emergency calls to the local police, small as they were. He only had to pray that they could handle any larger problems, if there happened to be any, that may come their way today. Truth be told, the team needed this time to recover, they simply were not up to the task today, despite the many, _many_ disagreements he could hear distantly in the back of his mind.

“You’re going to send yourself to an early grave with all that worrying you’re always doing y’know.” James jokes.

Andrew shakes his head humorlessly, “This was…bad James. Tonight couldn’t have gone worse.”

James feels his strained smile slip and fall as Andrew rubs his head tiredly. “Yeah, I’m…sorry about that ‘drew.”

Andrew cracks an eyelid after he allowed them to close and levels his gaze on the purple figures hunched form.

“For what?” he asks.

“I split the team up, and we got jumped.” James confesses, rubbing his arm anxiously. “It all happened so fast…”

“That’s…ridiculous, James.” Andrew replies tiredly, “You couldn’t have known.”

“I knew, but I still went in anyway, and look what happened.” He gestures vaguely to Andrew’s injuries, “You 4 are half dead, and the rest of the team is drained.”

Andrew shakes his head in frustration, “Nobody blames you for that, you did what you thought was right.”

“It wasn’t right, Andrew!” he snaps angrily, looking away with a huff. “You said it yourself: tonight couldn’t have gone worse and it’s because of my stupid ass decision to run in there with a half formed plan.”

Ringing silence descends on the room as Andrew carefully weighs his next words. He doesn’t have the chance to say anything, however, before they hear a quiet creak from behind the adjacent curtain that’s pulled back to reveal Tucker’s tired expression.

“I’m going to my room.” He says without malice as he fully pulls the curtain back to step past the pair. “Before I do, I want say that, for what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault.” He directs this statement at James, “but I’ll let Andrew sort that out with you.”

“You don’t have to go, Tucker.” Andrew calls to his retreating form.

”No offense, guys,” he calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, “but I’m really tired and this is you guy’s conversation to have. Try to rest though, both of you.”

The door clicks soundly shut behind the figure as he closes the door and the pair are left in silence once again.

Andrew refocuses on James as the figure sighs and sits at the foot of the bed, hunching further into himself as he does so. He picks at a stray thread on the bedsheets as he seems to consider his words.

“I’m considering stepping down, Andrew. This screw up is just too big to ignore.”

“James-“

“No, ‘drew. I’ve never messed up this bad before, and I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.”

There’s a brief bout of quiet and then shuffling as Andrew throws his blankets to the side and sits up. James’ calls of protest go ignored as the blue figure positions himself next to his second, his legs swinging off the edge of the bed as he leans against the figure comfortingly.

“…Do you remember Bog?” Andrew asks quietly.

James gives up on his fussing as his face scrunches in confusion. Of course he remembered Bog, they all did. Even if 90% of them weren’t there they wouldn’t forget the thing that had grievously injured 5 of them. He remembered the _several_ stern conversations he’d had with the more hard-headed members who insisted they send a party out to take the creature down.

“I almost got everyone killed there too. Because I was too stubborn to come back and get you guys.” James glances at Andrew out of the corner of his eye to see the figure staring distantly, regret in his eyes.

Andrew blinks away the emotion and catches James’ eye before he can look away, “Do you remember what you said to me then? When I wanted to let you take over?”

James distantly recalls the echoes of a conversation they’d had upon Andrew’s waking, but the details were lost to him.

“You told me that they trust me, that they listen to me. I know this might be hard for _you_ to believe, but they trust you too. There’s a reason they followed you into that room, and it wasn’t just because you told them to.”

James’ frown deepens and he looks away, “Andrew…” he says unhappily.

Andrew doesn’t give him a chance to speak and plows on, “Despite what you said, they _do_ trust you and respect you. You’re not just the second, James, you’re just as much of a leader as I am. They’d follow you again, if need be, I guarantee it.”

James looks away, thoughtfully inspecting the drawn curtain in front of them. He feels the knot in the pit of his stomach loosen slightly at Andrew’s words and he sighs with a rueful smile, “I’m starting to see why you felt the way you did,” he chuckles, “but now you know how I felt when you started spouting off about stepping down.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve also realized that I literally can’t do this on my own. I’d cave under the pressure in a week.” Andrew jokes, knocking warmly into his shoulder.

James shakes his head amusedly, “I think they’d drive you insane in less than that.”

Andrew snorts at that and fights off a massive yawn as his exhaustion returns full force. He stuffs it down and stretches, wincing slightly. “Okay, I think I’ve laid around enough. I need an update on everyone’s condition, and the cities.”

James gives him an unimpressed look and shakes his head. “I know ‘sleep’ and ‘rest’ aren’t in your vocabulary, but you’re officially bedridden. Until tomorrow at least.” He adds as Andrew opens his mouth to argue.

“I can handle it, dude.” James replies to his unconvinced look. “You guys look like you went through hell.”

“You didn’t have it any easier, James.” Andrew argues with a raised brow.

“Yeah, well I didn’t fall down 2 flights of stairs and meet the bad end of Omar’s blade. _Please,_ just for today, rest.”

Andrew glares at his second, who meets the steely gaze unflinchingly. James crosses his arms and glares right back, “I can go get the doc, ‘drew. He’s still here.” He warns.

Andrew raises his brow unconcerned and gears up for an argument before his earlier exhaustion slams into him again full force. He blinks woozily as the room blurs slightly and James smiles in amusement.

“They have you on some pretty strong meds, dude. All 5 of you are officially out of commission until the doc says otherwise.”

Andrew clutches his head and growls, but relents, “I’m still not staying in here.” he deadpans drowsily, “I’ll sleep in my own room, let’s leave the beds here for people who _actually_ need them.”

“You _do_ need it, dumbass!” James shakes his head, but helps Andrew to his feet regardless, slinging an arm over his shoulders to lead him. “Straight to your room, no detours.” He warns as they stumble from the room.

“I can’t even walk straight because of you and your scheming.” Andrew gripes as they slowly ascend the stairs and stagger down the hall to his room.

“I’m so sorry you have to _sleep_ Andrew, what was I thinking?” James snipes back as he plops the blue figure down on his bed, who immediately slumps down into his pillow.

“Is there anything you need before I go? Andrew?” he prods when he receives no answer. James leans closer and sees his leader already asleep, breathing deeply and evenly. The purple figure rolls his eyes and shakes his head fondly. Gently, he extracts the blanket from under him to throw it over his form.

“Sleep easy.” He says as he closes the door behind him.

* * *

“When I told you to rest, you know I meant for more than a day right?” James deadpans, unimpressed as he and Andrew make their way down the hall to the training room.

The moment he’d woken up, much to James’ annoyance, Andrew decided to call an impromptu meeting with the team for a much-needed status update. The second had been keeping tabs on everyone in his short absence, but he still wanted to personally see how they were doing.

“I can’t just lie around all day when there’s so much to do, James.” Andrew shoots back as they reach their destination and push through the still damaged double doors to be met with the rowdy group milling about the room.

“You look like a failed Halloween costume.” James complains as he tugs on the loose bandages wrapped neatly around Andrew’s back and head, “And you look like you haven’t slept in a week!”. The blue figure shrugs him off without a word and pushes through the packed room, raising a hand in greeting to those that notice his entrance. James rolls his eyes and follows in behind him. _Stubborn little…_

Andrew does a mental headcount as he and James push through the crowd, equal parts surprised and relieved when he finds the entire team had made it, seemingly recovered from the ordeal the night before, calling back a greeting to those who looked up from their roughhousing to greet the pair.

“You beat the crap out of us y’know.” He hears Hang comment to Kyle as he passes the pair, “I’m still sore.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I remember you decking me on the third floor, so we’re even.” Kyle snipes back.

“’Drew!”

Andrew sees James smoothly step out of the way as a weight throws itself into his back suddenly nearly knocking him to the floor.

“Thomas!” Andrew winces as his back twinges in protest at the figures added weight, but pats the forearm wrapped around his neck in greeting anyway.

“How are you feeling?” Andrew asks.

“Little sore,” Thomas shrugs as he redistributes himself so he’s draped across Andrew’s shoulders, “but nothin’ I can’t handle. Tuck got more messed up than me.”

“And how’s he?” James asks as he sidles back up to the pair, his hands clasped behind his back with a raised brow.

“He was pretty out of it last night…” Thomas says thoughtfully, “his ribs got pretty busted again too.” He continues as the smile slips from his face.

Andrew and James share a look, but before they can say anything, the black figure slips from his position across Andrew’s shoulders, already recovered from his brief reprieve, to beam at the pair, “But we made it! Everyone’s okay now! You hear that guys!” he calls to the group, “You didn’t kill us!”

There’s a roll of unease through the crowd at his words, but a few chuckles as Thomas turns back to the pair eagerly.

“ _Almost_ everyone.” Tucker voices suddenly as he pushes past Sean and Hang to join the trio.

“Tuck!” Thomas crows happily, he begins to jump on him as he had with Andrew but thinks better of it at the last minute and instead shoulders him playfully, “How’re you feeling?”

Tucker rubs his chest with a rueful smile, “Could be better, but I guess I’m used to it at this point, so what’s 6 more weeks?”

Thomas snorts at that and begins to say something else when Andrew cuts him off, his brow raised in concern, “What do you mean almost everyone?”

Tucker crosses his arms and gestures vaguely behind him with a jerk of his head, “You may have noticed that Mic’s here, but he’s not really…talking. Somethings bothering him and nobody can pry it out of him.” He says bluntly.

Andrew looks past the white figure and can just barely make out the hunched form of Michael, doodling idly in his sketchbook. A few passing Defenders bump him playfully as they walk by to which he smiles at them, but doesn’t join in their roughhousing.

It wasn’t too unusual for Michael to be quiet for sure, often he was absorbed in his work, but his hunched defeated form coupled with his silence _was_ a cause for concern.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Andrew murmurs as Michael returns to his doodling, a barely noticeable pained furrow to his brow. He turns to James who’s watching the gray figure with equal concern and says, “Make sure they don’t hurt each other?” he asks. 10 feet away Sean launches a pear from his portals where it slams into the back of Eric’s head, knocking his hat askew. The green figure turns, a murderous look in his eye as he retrieves his weapon from where it was strapped to his back. Andrew shakes his head and rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly, “Any more, please?”

“Sure thing,” James agrees as he starts toward the altercation, “Go see what’s up with the knucklehead.”

Andrew sighs appreciatively and nods at Thomas and Tucker as they follow James’ path with interest. He dodges around the pair and swiftly makes it to where Michael sits at the end of one of the makeshift tables. Upon reaching him, Andrew pulls out the chair across from him and plops down in it, making sure not to pull his injuries, and leaning against the plastic tabletop nonchalantly.

Michael raises his head from his sketchbook to offer a warm smile, but it immediately drops when he sees who it is sitting across from him. Dread clouds his features for only a moment before it’s once again covered by a grin.

“How’s it going, ‘drew?” he asks casually as he returns his pen tip to the paper and sketches out a vague shape on its surface.

Andrew raises a brow, but chooses not to comment on the sudden attitude change.

“Fine, Mic.” Andrew replies evenly, “I actually wanted to check in on you. Have you been feeling alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” Michael answers quickly, “I mean,” he falters as Andrew raises a brow, “It’s just been a long day, and everyone’s hurt…again. I’m just tired, Andrew, really, really tired.”

Andrew looks over the gray figure critically as his pen taps absentmindedly on the paper, a frustrated furrow to his brows. He wasn’t lying about being tired, if the exhausted hunch to his shoulders and the bruise like bags under his eyes were any indication.

But it was more than that. Michael’s eyes, usually bright and warm, were almost lifeless upon closer inspection. After Bog, there had already been a noticeable shadow hanging over the figure, one he’d seemed to be holding at bay, but today he looked almost haunted.

“I’m going to be frank, Mic, we’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you, and it’s obviously more than you being ‘tired’.” Andrew leans forward to catch Michael’s eye, “You haven’t been acting like yourself since…well since you left Aegis. We understand that, but it just seems like you’re having a hard time today in particular. Y’know you can tell us if something’s wrong, right?”

His words seem to have the opposite affect he was hoping for as Michael seems to curl into himself further, “I already told you I’m fine. Is there anything else you need?” he grounds out as he returns to his sketchbook, forcefully sketching over the existing doodles.

Andrew pushes the shock at the short response away, carefully schooling his face into a neutral expression. If he didn’t want to talk about what was bugging him, then fine he wouldn’t push, but there was something that was bugging Andrew.

“Actually,” the blue figure starts as a kernel of frustration roots itself in his chest, “there is. This is the second time an enemy of yours has attacked us, but this time it followed you _here_. I had to lead a beaten and exhausted team against something tied to _you_ , Mic. I _want_ an explanation.”

At this point, Michael had frozen, “What do you want me to say ‘drew? I thought that thing was gone, I never thought it would come after me again.”

“The fact remains that it did, and it nearly took us out.”

Michael snaps his head to glare at Andrew angrily, “You don’t need to point out how much I screwed up Andrew, I already knew that.” He retorts sharply, the words shushing the team around them as their attention turns to the pair.

Andrew raises his hands placatingly, ignoring the awkward stares of the team surrounding them, “Back up, I’m not accusing you of screwing anything up.”

“Then drop it!”

“We can’t just drop it, Mic. If there are threats coming after you specifically then-“

“Then what, Andrew? I can leave if you’re that concerned, there is some crap targeting me from Aegis, you have no idea what’s out there!”

“Then _enlighten_ me, Mic. I’m all ears.” Andrew retorts back, his frustration growing. “We want to help you, but if you’d rather run off and get yourself in _another_ mess that we’d have to drag you out of then be my guest.”

Michael puffs up in offense at the words, “In case you forgot you’re not my dad, Andrew, I don’t _need_ your help, I’ve handled myself fine for 2 years in Aegis, and I don’t _need_ to tell you every little detail of my life outside of here! You’re not by boss anymore!”

Andrew’s eyes flash dangerously, “Michael…-“

“Okay, that’s enough.” James cuts off the sharp reply, having materialized beside the bickering pair. “I _know_ that you two are stressed, but don’t take it out on each other. Michael,” he turns to the gray figure, “he’s just worried about you, but he’s having trouble saying that for _some_ reason.” He directs the last of the sentence to Andrew who looks away rubbing his neck uncomfortably. James turns back to Michael who was looking away awkwardly while simultaneously avoiding eye contact with the team, “Nobody blames you for what happened, you know that right?”

Michael briefly glances back at James and then Andrew before looking away again.

Andrew sighs before leaning forward again, “I’m sorry if I upset you, Mic. I am. If you need me to back off, that’s fine, but this _is_ a conversation we need to have at some point.”

Michaels frustrated frown only deepens, and he says nothing in response. Someone coughs awkwardly, and like a dam, quiet mumbling swells around them as the group start up their earlier conversations. Several of them step away to give the trio privacy, while others linger to ensure the argument was done and over.

James claps Andrew on the shoulder and shares an exasperated look with him before stepping away too, rejoining the group and shooing away the stragglers.

“I’ll be here, when you’re ready to talk.” Andrew says to Michael as he prepares to stand and join James’ patrol. “Just let me know.”

“Wait, ‘drew.”

Andrew pauses as he gets up and sinks back into his seat when he sees Michael struggling to formulate a response. He patiently waits as the gray figure contemplates for several minutes before finally looking up from his concentrated glare at the tabletop.

“I-“ He cuts himself off with a frustrated growl, “It _is_ my fault. Look at you guys,” he gestures to Andrew, to the bandages wrapped around his person, binding the wounds he’d endured the night before. Andrew vaguely suspected he was also referring the scar he’d received during the Bog encounter. “Ever since you came…to get me, there’s been nothing but trouble, it’d be easier if I did just go home. Safer at least.”

“Do you want to leave?” Andrew asks suddenly.

Michael looks taken aback at the question and seems to consider it, “Not really, no. For now, I’m happy to be here with you guys, but...”

“Then you don’t have to leave.”

“But-“ Michael starts to argue.

“Mic, we can handle whatever crazy crap follows you out here. It’s just that a warning would be _greatly_ appreciated so we’re not completely unprepared next time.”

Michael contemplates this before cupping a hand around his mouth to call to the team, “You guys want to hear about what I’ve been up to in Aegis?”

“What kinda question is _that_?” Thomas calls back immediately, “We’ve been trying to get that out of you for weeks, and it takes one talk with ‘drew to get you to talk? Rude!”

Michael shakes his head and smiles fondly as the team begins to drift their way, shoving each other playfully and grinning with relief at the noticeable lack of tension that was suffocating the room earlier.

“For the record, Mic,” Andrew gets the gray figures attention again, “you’re not alone. The other’s are just as bothered as you are from the Bog thing. They just hide it about as well as you do.”

Michael’s brows furrow together at that and he glances back to Thomas who was currently elbowing Tucker playfully, carefully avoiding his ribs. Not far behind, Kyle was chatting with Hang and Matt, gesturing excitedly at whatever it was he was talking about. Probably computers.

Michael glances back to Andrew, “And you? How are you handling it?”

Andrew meets his eyes tiredly, “Well, you _have_ to be fine if you want to be a leader. But I’m fine.” He adds on and laughs at the look Michael gives him.

The gray figure looks dissatisfied at the answer but lets it go as the team moves within ear shot and Thomas slides in beside him.

“Okay, spill it. I want to know about all the weird stuff you saw in that town.”

Michael laughs and Andrew feels the nearly unnoticeable tension in his chest ease slightly as he watches the others nudge at the gray figure encouragingly as they crowd around him. “It’s just a regular town, Thomas, there’s not much to tell.”

“It’s a _magic_ town, Mic! They told me about that crazy girl who threatened to kill them!”

“She’s about as unique as you guys. Kyle can use fire _without_ a channel, which makes you stronger. Don’t tell her I said that please.”

Thomas snorts as the other’s snigger, “You can take her, I guarantee it! Anyway, what _did_ you run into out there then?”

“Well, let me think,” Michael taps his chin in thought before snapping his fingers as he remembers something, “I’ve been seeing a ghost lately that may or may not possess me!”

“Not what I was expecting, but continue!” Thomas says exuberantly. There’s a rumble of agreement from the others, and Michael takes that as confirmation enough. He confidently weaves his story, adding doodles here and there from his sketchbook showing off a figure decked out in shining cowboy hat and familiar red cape with starlight sewn into its seams. 

Andrew files that information away for later as he stands and allows other’s to pile into his vacant seat and makes his way to James who was on the outskirts of the group. He keeps an ear on the conversation as he stands next to his second.

“Thank you. For earlier.” Andrew says.

“No problem.” James answers, “How is he?”

“Honestly? He still won’t tell me what’s really bugging him, but there was progress, and that’s fine for now.”

James nods, “We’ll get there, we need to talk about your and the other’s sleeping habits while we’re at it too, but it can wait until later.”

Andrew’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he nods back. The two return their attention back to the group with Michael at its center, the gray figure keeping the team captivated as he gestures wildly for emphasis.

Things weren’t great, and it would take a while before they were fine, but they were improving, and that was a start. 


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue that didn't exist at first. I just really wanted to play with One and Yoyo. 
> 
> Little disclaimer that this is how I see them acting, but I'm sure is not true to their personalities. Canon is the field in which I grow my crops and all that.

The proceeding week was a whirlwind of activity as the defenders recovered and returned to their quickly growing pile of assignments. Andrew oversaw the movement and recovery of the team from his office, as James refused to let him partake in anything physically related to their missions. While that was his second's job, it was Andrew’s to keep the other four from sneaking out too.

It was proving to be more difficult than he’d originally assumed, especially as Thomas became more and more restless, but he’d managed to shut down several ‘escape’ attempts so far.

There was only one loose end to tie up now, and that was the matter of the coconut that had started the whole thing. Matt and Hang had managed to get their hands on the parasite before it made its getaway and had contained it within a sack for lack of a better option.

Initially, they had tried to simply destroy it, to ensure it wouldn’t come after Michael or anyone again, but try as they might, they simply couldn’t crack the thing. Whatever magic it had was doing a thorough job of protecting it from whatever they threw at it. Kyle’s and Hang’s combined flames did nothing, Omar and Michael couldn’t cut through it, and none of their fighters had managed to make even a crack on its hard surface.

It had been briefly considered to simply lock the thing away in a cell of Waqas’ design permanently, but Michael had had a better idea. He suggested the dojo, far away past even Aegis, where all the best fighters congregated to duke it out, but also doubled as a research and containment facility for particularly problematic or interesting magical artifacts.

Andrew had been quick to agree. Frankly, he didn’t want that thing staying anywhere in the building and he strongly suspected that the other defenders felt the same way. Particularly Michael even if wouldn’t say it.

A letter had been constructed and sent detailing the situation that had occurred, and the threat the parasite posed. Michael insisted they were already well aware of just how threatening it could be but wouldn’t elaborate further, an embarrassed blush coloring his face. Andrew already knew, having read the gray figures journal, but kept quiet. Tucker, Thomas, and Kyle, he noticed, followed suit.

They hadn’t expected a response for at least a week considering the nearly archaic practice of mailing a letter, which is why they were surprised when a mere few days later they were met with a sharp knock on the door that revealed a strange pair on their doorstep. The obviously younger one was playing tricks with a glowing yoyo as the other, a tall and imposing figure with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face and a glowing green sword strapped to his back, demanded they hand over the parasite with hardly an introduction.

And that was where Andrew, James, and whoever wasn’t on a mission were now, entertaining their guests as Waqas worked on a device that would ensure the parasite wouldn’t be able to escape and make its way back here potentially.

The tall one, introduced as One by the younger Yoyo, grumbled under his breath, tapping an irritated rhythm with his foot as he impatiently waited. The younger kid merely continued his tricks, glancing around in interest at the training room, unbothered by One’s grumpy aura.

James and Andrew share a look and the latter steps forward, a hand outstretched in greeting to shake. One raises a brow at the movement and ignores it, but Yoyo happily takes up the offer and accepts the handshake.

“Nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise,” Andrew returns, “We weren’t expecting a reply so soon, and definitely not someone to pick it up in person, otherwise we would have prepared. Why did you come in person?”

“Hyun told us about-“ Yoyo begins to explain before One cuts him off with a growl.

“Hyun told us about this thing that attacked Aegis and the dojo.” One directs his glare to Michael who had positioned himself in the back of the room as far away from the pair as the space would allow. “And who did it, too.”

Michael ducks under the glare and offers an awkward wave that isn’t returned. Andrew steps in front of the glare with a raised brow, unimpressed. “I’m not sure what you may have heard, but Michael wasn’t in control of himself here or there.”

“I heard that this is the second time that thing’s come after him and caused nothing but trouble.” One returns his glare to Michael and reaches for the hilt of his weapon, “If it likes him so much then maybe I can end this problem here.”

Andrew hears several weapons cock at the threat and feels the presence of more than one fighter stepping forward. Andrew crosses his arms, his polite and easygoing demeanor replaced with a defensive one.

“It seems I haven’t made myself clear. You’re more than welcome in our home, and we appreciate your coming all the way out here to get this thing, but threats against anyone here is a challenge and won’t be tolerated. Whatever happened before is in the past, I suggest you leave it there. Whatever happened here is none of your concern, and was dealt with.” Andrew stares hard at the figure before him, maintaining eye contact even as One’s hard eyes narrow into a glare.

“If you want a fight, then-“

Whatever threat One was planning on making is cut off as his young companion swings his ‘weapon’ in an arc that clocks him in the mouth, the shock on his face causing a few snickers behind Andrew. He strongly suspected that if anyone other than this kid tried that, they’d receive more than an irritated glare.

“Calm down, bro.” Yoyo reprimands, rolling his eyes, “Nobody even cares anymore, ‘cept you, and you weren’t even there.”

One opens his mouth to argue, but the unimpressed look his companion throws his way shuts him up. Surprisingly, he backs down with an irritated huff and resumes his tapping.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Yoyo apologizes with a roll of his eyes, “He wouldn’t have actually done anything, Hyun would’ve killed him.” 

“I don’t care what that mother fu-“ One begins to snap before Yoyo casually whips the toy to smack him in the chin.

“You have one more of those, Yoyo.” One threatens angrily, but goes silent again regardless.

“Can someone give me a status update on Waqas?” Andrew asks abruptly, turning and zeroing in on Matt who nods and exits the room.

“Getting antsy, aren’t we?” One taunts.

Andrew ignores him and turns to Yoyo, “He should be done any minute now, and you can be on your way. No offense to you two, but I don’t appreciate the threats. I’m also starting to feel like destruction follows you and we’ve had enough of that for a while.”

Yoyo nods, unbothered by the description while One merely shrugs and doesn’t comment.

There’s a slightly less awkward few moments of small talk between James and Yoyo as they wait for Matt to return with their update when Michael steps forward. He self-consciously shuffles forward, past Andrew, ignoring the warnings from the others, to stand before One, who raises his glare from the floor to the gray figure.

“…I’m sorry,” Michael starts, meeting the hard, narrowed eyes, “for before. Hyun’s told me about you guys, so I know you care about him and the dojo. I never intended to hurt them.”

One’s face curls sourly, but he doesn’t argue. He looks away again and ignores any further attempts at conversation. Yoyo looks on silently, his arms crossed as he regards Michael with interest. The gray figure eventually rubs at his neck awkwardly and backs off, rejoining the others in the back of the room.

Andrew glances at One discretely, and while his closed off demeanor hadn’t changed, the hard glint in his eyes had softened slightly. Yoyo looks impressed, “You’ve unlocked his slightly less pissed off mood.” He congratulates.

One rolls his eyes and shakes his head fondly, “Shut up already.”

Andrew can tell that Yoyo is preparing to poke at the metaphorical bear some more before Waqas pops in to interrupt him, much to his relief. He presents the completed box to Andrew, “This should do, I mean, it’s only a fruit after all. I’m still not sure why you’re taking all these precautions Andrew, but whatever floats your boat.”

“I don’t want a repeat, Waqas. Thank you.” The black figure nods, waves to the two newcomers and exits, his plate still full a week after the ordeal. The thing had destroyed a lot of the internal wiring in an attempt to escape, and Waqas was the only one who was up to the task of repairing it.

“Thanks, dude!” Yoyo calls to the retreating figure who waves again offhandedly before exiting the room. Yoyo turns back to Andrew who holds the box out to him, “Anything else we should know before we head out?” he asks as he takes it.

“Just don’t open it. It’s quicker than it looks apparently.” Andrew warns and steps away. “I’ll show you out.”

Yoyo nods and gestures for One to follow who grunts and pushes off from the wall to trail behind them. He ignores the glares from the members he passes and makes eye contact with Michael before he steps out. Michael raises an eyebrow in confusion at his glare that morphs into surprise as he throws a hand up in farewell before disappearing into the hall behind his brother.

“…I still don’t like him.” Someone calls from the crowd. There are sounds of agreement at the proclamation, and the group devolves into quiet mumbling as they discuss their newest guests.

Quietly, Michael smiles.


End file.
